Disenchantment
by the.clairvoyance
Summary: Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.
1. Chapter 1

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For the always lovely Jackie (aka Paramore-CSI) because her fangirlism must be fed ;D.

**Author's Comment:** So this is my first _Criminal Minds_ fanfiction and I have probably only seen a seasons worth of episodes (not all from the same season mind you) so I am not _too_knowledgeable of all of the characters and their histories. From what I _have_ seen of the program I am very impressed with and I enjoy it a lot but sometimes it is just too dark/scary for me too watch. Nonetheless this is my attempt at a story that I hope you all find interesting and enjoy :D.

* * *

**Chapter One.****Vanishing Act**

"_Don't learn safety rules simply by accident."_

_

* * *

_

_9:14AM  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
BAU,__Quantico, Virginia_

"Has anyone seen Hotch at all? I need him for a cold case that just got a lead." Agent Jennifer Jareau asked as she entered through the elevator with a file in one hand and a Green Tea in the other. From their respective seats in the bullpen Garcia, Reid, and Rossi looked to each other for an answer that obviously none of them had. All right, so that was a bit unusual. When they faced JJ again they were wearing matching expressions of confusion and shrugging, something that did not bode well for the blonde agent.

"I guess I will try him on his cell then. See you guys later." JJ replied and swiftly made her exit, placing the file under her and reaching for her cell while the team redirected their previous conversation from the weather to Hotch's whereabouts.

"Usually Hotch is the first one here, early too." Garcia stated as she spun around in one of the desk chairs, balancing the Entertainment section of the newspaper in her lap as she did so.

"Or he just doesn't leave." Rossi pointed out after taking a sip of his coffee; the other two agents nodded in agreement.

"Well I'm sure he'll show up some place, it isn't like Hotch to be late without good reason." Reid reminded his friends with the intention of keeping them in a calm and rational mood. Besides he was rather sure of himself and how well he knew Aaron Hotchner.

Now despite the agents' "calm and rational" demeanor it did not stop any of them from whipping around to the sound of the elevator dinging and two metal doors sliding open. All three of them were expecting—with fingers crossed—that it would be Hotch on the other side. It wasn't and almost instantly all of the air was released out of their lungs, air that they hadn't realized they were even holding. Morgan approached them with a tight-lipped and dead serious expression; suddenly the calm evaporated into the air.

"What's the matter Morgan?" Reid queried, placing his hands in his lap as Rossi and Garcia sat up in their seats.

"I just got off the phone with Hotch," he replied but it was not with the relief the rest of the team felt and that worried them.

"_And?_" Garcia pressured impatiently. "You can't leave us hanging after_that,_ not when Hotch pulled a Houdini on us and you're the only one whose spoken to him!"

"Relax baby girl," Derek told her smoothly and once she did he continued. "Hotch is fine everyone."

Rossi arched at an eyebrow at this surprise response; "very anti-climatic of you, Morgan."

There was a pause before Morgan spoke again but this time it was different, not in the way you can explain but just different, maybe worse?

"Hotch is fine, it's Emily we're worried about."

* * *

_9:30AM  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

About fifteen minutes after Morgan had informed the team as to Hotch's whereabouts and why they were concerned about Prentiss the elevator doors opened to reveal a very disgruntled looking Agent Hotchner. JJ had showed up about thirty seconds after Hotch and had spoken almost two whole words to him before he called a meeting in the conference room. Naturally, everyone followed.

"I assume you all know why I called you here?" Hotch spoke to the group who were now all seated around the conference table.

JJ looked momentarily confused and then spoke up. "Uhm, no. Care to fill me in, Hotch?"

Hotch nodded and began to explain. "It is my understanding that Agent Prentiss went missing at some point after four this morning. After attempting to contact her on her cell phone, I spoke to the local PD and filed a missing persons report so they will be keeping in touch if anything comes up."

The team understood this but was very curious as to how exactly Hotch knew about Emily's whereabouts _before_ she went missing. When their curiosity finally got the better of them they questioned Hotch and were both surprised and disbelieving of his answer.

* * *

_4:03AM  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
Hotchner Household_

_At four in the morning there is very little movement happening in the Hotchner household, in fact at four in the morning the aforementioned is usually sprawled out in a vertical position on his bed trying to get a few hours sleep before having to venture into Hell the next morning. But today was different, well not so much "different" but "less often", if that makes any sense. This morning Agent Hotchner had a houseguest, a houseguest that was currently stealing blankets and mattress space; he half smiled and padded out of the room as quietly as possible. Now if it were not four something in the AM Emily Prentiss probably would have been more aware of a dip in the mattress and the sound of socks on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, but she wasn't and didn't. But that was the point for SSA Aaron Hotchner had no intention of having Agent Prentiss wake up, since he knew fully well that if she did come out of her slumber it would likely be that she either would not fall back asleep or she would question where he was going and he did not care to worry her over such minimal things._

_Once he had freed himself from the warmth and comfort of the bedspreads and Emily Prentiss, Hotch found his way to the bathroom with admirable stealth for someone who was still half-asleep. Originally Prentiss had been surprised to see that Aaron was so agile first thing in the morning when she tripped over the comforter and bed sheets in a pathetic attempt to pull herself from the bed. Hotch smiled to himself at the memory. When the bathroom had finally been located (oh, come on, he may have been trained by the FBI but that doesn't mean he has sonar vision) Hotch went about his business as quietly as he could. After having taken care of the serious business of needing to pee, Hotch washed his hands and wiped the tired from his eyes and stared at his reflection as he did so. So that was what he looked like when he got a good night sleep? Interesting. He made a mental note to do this more often._

_Heading out of the bathroom, Hotch was about to make his way back to the bedroom when he heard the doorbell chime; now who could that be?_

_The thing that people always needed to remember was to take precaution. Like always. Say you were approached by a stranger on a quiet street alone; they may very well be an innocent and decent person only wondering about road directions but that surely doesn't mean that they are incapable of doing you harm. SSA Aaron Hotchner understood this, he also understood that people must precede things with a certain degree of sensibility and rationality and forethought. It was this reasoning (and how many years of working for the BAU) that Hotch entered the bedroom to retrieve his gun form his holster, a necessary precaution really._

_Flicking the porch lights on, Hotch carefully positioned his gun so it was out of view of the doorway but still positioned well. A light knocking came from the opposite side of the door and so the Agent unlocked it and braced himself._

"_I'm sorry to disturb you, sir." A disheveled looking twenty-something year old woman apologized hurriedly. "But I crashed my car and I don't have my iPhone. Can I borrow your phone to call someone? Please?"_

_On any other occasion Hotch would have been a little more suspicious but in the young woman's defense she did have a few fresh cuts and bruises and looking past the her shoulder Hotch could see a totaled car crashed against the side of the road. Against the better judgment of a strange something niggling at the back of his mind Hotch nodded and told the girl that he would call for help and the scraped up young woman retreated to her car where Hotch could see her inspecting damages and lighting up a cigarette. Noticing the clock had ticked to about quarter after four, the tired BAU agent made his way back upstairs, skipping steps as he went, and freezing in his tracks by what he saw in the master suite._

_Nothing._

_Well not exactly "nothing"._

_There were rumpled bed sheets and disarrayed pillows, the comforter was kicked half off the bed and dresser drawers were thrown open. In a word the room looked like a tornado had passed through it and Hotch could not peel his dark brown eyes away for even a second. The reason he couldn't seem to drag his gaze away was because there seemed to be one thing that stuck out the most in the entire room and it wasn't the chaos but instead the unnerving fact that the other side of the mattress was now empty and the window was cracked open. Now __that __terrified him.

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** *Eternally hopeful* So what did you all think? I sincerely hope I did both the characters and the dialogue justice (need I remind you that this _is_ my first Criminal Minds fiction?) but if you think it could use some improvement I am open to suggestions and constructive criticism. I would really appreciate if you would leave a review telling me if I should continue this or not (oh who the heck am I kidding? I'm beginning chapter two as soon as possible :P). Have a wonderful day :D.

_CSIAly, xoxo_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** To my adoring fans ;D. I couldn't (or wouldn't?) be able to do this without you. Thank you.

**Date of Completion: **Monday March 29th 2010.

**Author's Comment:** Welcome to chapter two! Yes, I actually updated the story! I am very proud of this development. Seriously. Now as you may have guessed from the previous chapter I do indeed involve flashbacks, which I think, are a lot of fun and very interesting! So I hope you like them too because I'm sure if I looked my sister's crystal ball I'd see many more in the future of this fic ;D.

* * *

**Chapter Two. Motherly Love**

"_The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new."_

— _Rajneesh_

_

* * *

_

_9:45AM  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
The Nolan Household_

Emily Prentiss did not have a hangover and yet her head was aching as if someone had just smashed a sledgehammer into it. She groaned quietly and rolled over on to her stomach and felt the softness of a mattress and pillows beneath her tired body. With one hand reaching out, the SSA felt for another body beside her but came up short, how upsetting. Peeling her sleepy eyelids open, Emily scanned what she could see of the room before deeming it unfamiliar and unwelcome. Where the Hell was she? Naturally she flipped on to her back to inspect the rest of the room.

From what she could tell the room she was in was not dangerous or unkempt, in fact it looked rather nice. The bedroom was painted a calming shade of azure and accented with sandy brown furniture and knick-knacks. There was a chandelier for a lighting fixture and it hung above the center of the room that was shaped something like a large circle with a bay window on the side of the room parallel to a door that Emily assumed led into a bathroom. Nonetheless it was certainly not where she had fallen asleep the previous evening and that was not helping her already incredible migraine. Briefly she pondered over the likelihood of this foreign house having a coffee maker and some beans to brew; somehow she doubted it.

Out of the unfamiliar--albeit comfortable--bed, Emily tiptoed around the bedroom carefully, inspecting it really. There were few personal touches aside from photographs of a woman, some of which were of her alone and others where she had people surrounding her. Tucking the information in the back of her mind for later Prentiss continued on her covert tour of the bedroom. She checked the bathroom next to find everything not only in order but shockingly sterile, obviously someone had a maid or OCD for cleaning. Continuing back into the main bedroom area the SSA peeked through a set of dresser drawers only to find neatly folded clothes suited for a man and a woman. _Weird_. Emily told herself as she moved towards the one door she had yet to open yet, the one that she assumed would lead her into the rest of this beautiful but alien home.

"Hello?" Prentiss called out softly. "Is anyone home?"

There was no answer but what else had she expected?

Deciding not to waste time exploring the other rooms on the floor, Prentiss found her way to a winding wooden stairwell that led down to another level of the house. With every step she took the stairs echoed and she found herself holding her breath as her feet betrayed her presence until she finally came to a stop on the hardwood floor. Peering around the foyer she was amazed by how large and spacious it was; the double French doors letting the morning sun pour right in and the lemon coloured walls smiling on her. That's when she heard it; talking.

As quietly as she could manage, Emily followed the hushed conversation down the gaping corridor until she reached a giant cut out of wall that served the purpose of a doorway, one that entered into a gorgeously designed and furnished living room and kitchen en suite. In the kitchen half of the room she could see four people sitting around an oval shaped, white oak table, speaking amongst themselves and eating what smelt like a delicious breakfast. For a moment Emily felt eyes on her; at first they were the eyes of one man tracing down her body with ease followed suite by the shy gaze of a woman fluttering over her before returning to her meal, and then twin eyes regarding her with half-interest until they refocused on their food as well.

_Okay then,_ Emily thought silently, _is someone going to say something or was am I going to have to speak first?_

Suddenly Emily felt as if she was Goldilocks and at the mercy of the three bears and to be completely truthful that thought terrified her.

"Why don't you come sit, Temperance? Have breakfast with us." The man, handsome and confident, asked her without a trace of malice in his tone. Approaching with caution, Prentiss nodded slowly and crossed the threshold to where the group of four was sitting. It was only then did she notice that the table was set for five.

Taking the seat at the side of the man's, Prentiss stared at the old fashioned but pretty silverware and dishes while poking at the scrambled eggs that were still steaming on her plate. She felt the eyes on her again.

"Children it is not polite to stare," the woman told the two children who were sitting across from Emily, the two children who instantly dropped their attention back to their breakfasts; a peanut butter sandwich for one and a jelly for the other.

"Come now Renée," the handsome man spoke again and equally as softly as before. "The children are just curious about their mother, after all they haven't seen for so long."

Reluctantly the woman shrugged and nodded, returning her focus to her bowl of dry cereal.

_Temperance? Their mother? What the hell happened and why can't I remember last night?_ Prentiss thought, desperately trying to piece together the past few hours.

"I'm so glad you're home now, Temperance." The man spoke sincerely and with a pleasant smile on his face. Prentiss swallowed awkwardly and took a bite of her eggs, afraid to do or say anything else for the time being.

* * *

_10:02AM  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

"So wait," JJ demanded with her hand held up like a stop sign. "What _were_ you doing with Emily at four in the morning?"

It would be a blatant lie if Hotch were to claim he had not been expecting this line of inquiry but he certainly had been keeping his hopes up that it would wait for later, preferably after they had a clue as to where Prentiss had gone or even better; once they had her back safely. Unfortunately for SSA Aaron Hotchner today was clearly not going to be an easy one or at all in his favour. He decided the "Boss Man" approach was the best choice, given the situation.

"Nothing unprofessional," he informed the team who all looked like a cross between "as if" and "thank gosh" but he was not quite sure which he preferred. "Not that it matters right now, the thing we should be concerning ourselves with is that we learn whatever we can about Prentiss' disappearance as quickly as we can."

Curiosity aside, the team agreed unanimously and went back to business.

Hotch decided to update the team on what the police knew so far and how everyone could be of service during the investigation. "Since I have already spoken to the local PD and gave them my statement my home is now being inspected for any evidence of invasion or forensic evidence. To differentiate if this was an intentional runaway or abduction the police will want to speak to you all at some point today. However for now I want to contact local establishments, hospitals, and clinics as well as canvass the neighborhood."

Normal procedure, of course, but it did offer a strange kind of comfort to realize that they had all done this before and managed to save the day.

"Garcia, you go see who else shows up in Missing Persons matching the report I compiled of Prentiss." Hotch directed to the technical analyst sitting to his left.

"Rossi, you and I are going back to my place to the help the police while Morgan and Reid canvass the neighborhood as well as Prentiss'." The three men arranged around the room nodded and waited for Hotch to finish giving his instructions.

"JJ, I want you to contact transportation services, hospitals and clinics, and just local establishments in the are. Remember that missing person cases usually have a time limit so we'll regroup later with our findings." JJ mentally compiled a list of places she would check first, people who she should contact, and if name-dropping would be necessary or not.

Standing before the other agents, Hotch tried very hard to shut down any free reign his emotions may have had over his face, his body language, and his tone of voice. It was not as if he wanted to give his team the perception that he did not care or that he was cold but rather that he knew that in cases like these, personal ones, it was very difficult to keep a leveled head and right now that was exactly what was going to save Prentiss. "Remember that missing person cases usually have a time limit so we will be regrouping later with our findings."

Filing out of the conference room, Garcia and JJ retreated to their respective workspaces while Reid and Morgan got their jackets and made their way to one of the SUVs. Hotch was about to leave as well when he was stop by the sound of his friend's voice, a voice that he recognized in a heartbeat.

"We're going to find her." Rossi promised his friend, as they both remained rooted to the ground for a moment, Hotch holding eye contact for a moment before breaking it with a sure nod of the head. Of course they were going find Prentiss, it was a requirement in their field of business for one thing, but more important than that Prentiss was a part of their family and there was no way anyone of them were going to give up on her. Hotch was damn sure of that.

* * *

_10:08AM  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
The Nolan Household_

"Now I know you just got home, honey, so you won't have to do any housework today but I do expect you to make up for lost time. These children have grown older with only a mother figure but no real mother so you will be required to do you motherly duties." The man told Prentiss once he dismissed the two children from the table and the woman, Renée, cleared their napkins, dishes, and cutlery.

"Motherly duties?" Emily inquired while keeping the fear from her voice; she couldn't give this man anymore of the upper hand, after all he had home field advantage whereas she had been unconscious likely by drugs for the past few hours. God only knows what he has already done to her; she tried not to shudder at the thought.

Leaning back in his chair, the man nodded and listed a few of the expectations he had of her. Laundry, cooking, cleaning, and handling the children pretty much made up her entire schedule apparently. The man explained how she would have to do these household chores since he would be at work most days, which turned out to be a construction site. So Prentiss definitely had no intention of sticking around to play house with her captor and his kids but before she went AWOL she would have to think of an escape route and work out the logistics of running away. If the man were really the sole-provider of this family he would likely be at work a lot, which made that prime time for a getaway. Alas Emily was not in the habit of encountering "easy" situations in her life so she figured there would be a catch, probably security or imprisonment or something equally as awful. This was so not good.

"Oh would you look at the time." He said again, peering at his watch quickly. "I am going to be late for work; I told my boss I was taking Phoenix to a dental appointment and would be at the site before eleven."

_Phoenix? Now which one was that?_ Prentiss asked herself. _It doesn't matter as long as he is going, I can always learn about the children after he leaves._

He placed a firm, strong hand on Emily's shoulder, squeezing it kindly and then dropped a kiss on her head. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Goodbye." Prentiss replied emotionless, watching as he stepped towards the other woman and hugged her half-heartedly; the woman stared at Prentiss over his shoulder as they embraced.

Once Emily heard him call out a goodbye to the children and exit the front entrance of the house, the BAU agent turned to the woman in the kitchen and raised an eyebrow to her.

"Why am I here?" She asked, her tone all force but it did not rattle the woman in fact the woman gave away no emotion at all.

For a moment Renée did not answer, instead she only regarded Emily with her blank brown eyes; the two women stood in silence and scrutinized one another. Renée was tall, taller than Emily herself but only by a half an inch or so, however it was not so much her height that Prentiss figured intimidated people but rather her detached demeanor. At the moment her hair was a scraggly mess of curls that almost fell past her breasts and on to the black sheath dress that she was wearing, the one that hugged her curves and flattened her mid-section. She wore little to no makeup but Prentiss wondered if the woman should because she did look a little pallor. The one thing that really caught Emily's eye however was not so much what Renée was giving away physically but more so the aura around her.

When Renée finally did speak it came not cold or bitter or fearful or pleasant, it just sounded as if she was stating a fact and nothing more.

"Because Zephyr needs a wife, or rather _his_ wife."

Prentiss could actually feel her eyes widen despite herself.

"And I am to assume that _I_ have to be that woman?"

Renée shrugged a pale shoulder and turned back to the sink where she was dunking dishes into white, foamy bubbles. Pushing a manicured fingernail through the clear film, she lifted the bubble into the air and held it under the light, doubling as a kaleidoscope. Prentiss stared at the other woman and when the bubble did pop Renée frowned; it was clear she was disappointed with this.

"To him you already are."

Prentiss thought about what Renée had said and what it could mean. _Already?_ It would explain why he had referred to her as "Temperance" and why he expected her to care for the two children. She wasn't stupid, she saw these kinds of cases everyday but she had never been this up close and personal before. If she were profiling right now, in the safety of the BAU with case folders and the team it would be equally as horrifying but not as truly confusing. Emily knew that you could say whatever you wanted but until it's you facing down the barrel of a gun you don't know how you will feel. In this particular case Emily was baffled by how a man could believe that a total stranger (i.e. _her_) could be his spouse. Mentally she could follow the logic easily. The man probably lost his wife tragically, he likely has some kind of health concern; he may even be psychologically impaired. However it is not the habit of many people to initially follow their head instead of their instincts in such situations and in Emily's situation her first instinct was to run. Fast.

"Look, Miss…" Emily began but let the latter half dangle in the air between them until Renée regarded her again.

"Renée." She stated. It was not said rudely or reluctantly; again as if it were just simple fact.

Prentiss fought to roll her eyes. _Okay, so we're not going to be helpful and give me any information. Wonderful._

"I'm SSA Emily Prentiss of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and that man—"

"Zephyr." Renée informed the BAU agent as she dried a plain white plate, placing it in the wooden rack beside her gently.

"Zephyr." Emily nodded slowly, wondering who Renée was in relation to the man, Zephyr. "He took me last night, abducted me. Now I don't know _why_ he did that but I can't stay here and you have to help me get out."

Her pale hands paused beneath the warm water in the sink and the only sound you could hear in the room was the sound of the fork she had been washing fall to the bottom of the sink. Renée dropped her chin down slightly, speaking quieter now.

"I cannot do that, Miss Prentiss."

Emily let out a breath and tipped her head so she could see beneath the curtain of Renée's hair since it was hiding her face from view. It was only now that Prentiss' really took in the few cuts and small bruise that marked the woman's face.

"You _can't_ or you _won't_?"

Both women knew it wasn't much of question.

"I helped kidnap you so it would be rather stupid of me to let you go, now wouldn't it?" She asked plainly and it had to be the most rhetoric question Emily Prentiss had ever heard.

Something took over Emily in that moment, something that she often felt when she was in these situations and by "these situations" she did not mean being captured and delivered to an unfamiliar house so that she could be forced to play Betty Homemaker. No. When she thought "these situations" she was thinking more along the lines of speaking to a person who has been warped by trauma, someone who has been tortured, abused, and manipulated time and time again. There was no doubt in SSA Emily Prentiss' mind that Renée had been the subject of this man's manipulation.

"Renée," Emily as in the tone of voice she reserved for the people who have just had their world turned upside down. "Has Zephyr ever hurt you?"

The woman stilled and Emily could see the firm set in Renée's jaw and the narrowing of her dark eyes. Obviously Emily had struck a nerve and she was a little nervous to see how Renée was going to respond to it.

"Zephyr is a good man; never speak ill of him." Renée was strict and bordering on angry but she continued. "He lost the love of his life and must care for two children, he is hard working and gentlemanly. I owe my life to him and I will not have you insult him in his own home."

Another pregnant paused filled the air before Emily decided on taking a _new _approach to things.

"So tell me about Temperance."

* * *

_10:32AM__  
Tuesday March 23rd 2010  
The Hotchner Household_

Upon their arrival to Hotch's house, Reid and Morgan decided it would be best for each of them to take a sector of the neighborhood so they could survey the people quicker. They each were equipped with their IDs, guns, and a photograph of Prentiss that was taken by Garcia at a restaurant the team ate at recently, the photograph had been photocopied for the convenience of the police who were on patrol or were assisting in the neighborhood survey. In the picture they had of Emily she was smiling at something someone had said and was wearing a flattering red shirt; she looked like a perfectly happy woman without a care in the world. Reid, Morgan, and a few other police officers promptly went to work.

Since Emily didn't actually live in the neighborhood it did not surprise either BAU agents when most of the neighbors did not recognize her and to make matters worse no one could recall a young woman with car troubles at four something in the morning. They were beginning to lose their trust and patience in surveying but they also knew that until they had enough information to accumulate a profile of an UNSUB they were limited in their options.

After about fifteen or so houses Morgan finally stumbled across a small yellow and white painted home with a cliché white picket fence and a silver Lexus in the driveway. Reaching the front porch, Morgan rang the doorbell twice before he could hear the faint strains of someone calling out "I'm coming, I'm coming!" from the inside of the house. When whoever was home finally answered the door it was swung open to reveal a young woman with a bath towel wrapped around her petite body and her hair was wrapped up in what looked like a towel headdress. She was small and cute and looked up at Morgan with pretty green eyes.

"We don't want any." The young woman told him frankly and moved to shut the door so Morgan stuck his foot out like he had fifteen odd times earlier this morning.

"I'm not here to sell you anything; I need to speak to you."

With an eyebrow quirked, the girl opened the door some more but reluctantly nonetheless.

"How come?"

Morgan sighed, relieved more than anything, and took the picture of Prentiss out of the breast pocket of his jacket.

"I'm SSA Derek Morgan of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and we believe that one of our agents, Emily Prentiss, has gone missing. She was last seen in the company of Aaron Hotchner, a neighbor of yours, and I was wondering if you recall anything suspicious or out of the ordinary happening last night?"

The young girl smiled a little at the mention of Aaron Hotchner and when she spoke again she sounded much more pleasant.

"Oh I know Mr. Hotchner," the emerald eye girl told Morgan. "He works for the FBI or something. I baby-sit his kid, Jack—you know him?—and a couple other children from the neighborhood after school on Mondays and Wednesdays."

_Jackpot!_

"So Miss—"

"Carlton, Jane Carlton." Jane Carlton offered him with a charming smile.

Removing a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket, Morgan jotted down what Jane told him about watching Jack and a few of his classmates the previous afternoon, the fact that Aaron Hotchner had arrived at her house around six o'clock in the evening to relieve Jane of her babysitting. She recalled a short conversation about midterm testing and Jack having a sleepover at a friend's house that evening. It was at least ten after six in the evening by the time Hotch had left to drive Jack to his sleepover.

After nodding along and taking jot notes of Jane's recap of the evening, Morgan asked her again; "and you didn't hear or see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary?"

Jane concentrated very hard for a moment, retracing her steps the previous evening and very early that morning and after a solid forty seconds she came to a realization.

"Actually, yeah!" The petite blonde realized. "I was coming in at like four in the morning—way past curfew—so I had to climb the trellis at the side of the house to sneak into my brother's room and then to mine. Anyway, my friend was waiting for her ride to come pick her up so we hung out on my front lawn for a while until this car shows up."

_Car,_ Morgan thought. _Okay, good, it's finally coming together._

"Well the car rolls up—and let me just say it was in pretty rough condition—with the headlights turned off and out comes these people but we can't really tell who they are because it's so dark out but one was definitely a man. So he goes up to—wait, oh my gosh!" Jane gasped, realization slapping her across the face. "Oh my gosh!"

Derek jumped on the mini-hysteric moment before it could evolve into a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Jane, Jane." Derek snapped as the small blonde's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "I need you to calm down, okay? Take a deep breath and think really, really hard about what happened with the man. Can you do that for me?"

Inhaling a deep breath, Jane nodded and gasped, letting the tension out of her system. "I'm sorry, I just can't believe I didn't remember it earlier. That man and whoever was with him, they walked right up to the sidewalk in front of Mr. Hotchner's house. Laurie—my friend—and I were just sitting and talking on the sidewalk and one minute the man is there and the next he just disappeared. The next thing I know Mr. Hotchner has the porch light on and the woman is going back to her car and a few seconds later the guy comes back and they get in the car and just drive away."

Having just spat that all up, Jane was a little short of breath and appropriately anxious; Derek just wished she had a glass of water or something so she could calm down.

"So does that mean that Emily lady was like kidnapped or something? Is that why you're here?" Jane asked both frantically and inconspicuously, something Derek Morgan didn't know was possible until this very moment. Oh this certainly had the makings of a long morning.

* * *

_11:34pm__  
__Monday March 22nd 2010_  
_The Hotchner Household_

_It was easier when the person coming over drove their own vehicle and tonight they happened to be spending the night at Hotch's. Hotch paced around his bedroom feeling like a caged animal, the tension rising. "Damn it!" Hotch cursed as he realized he was getting worked up over nothing but could he help himself? The correct answer would be "no". He checked his cell phone again and the time had only increased by a mere minute. "Goddamnit!" He cursed again; why the Hell was he agitated? Actually that was a stupid question, Hotch knew why he was having this mini-melt down but there was very little he could do to remedy it. It was past eleven thirty in the evening and she had yet to show up or return his call and text. Yes he was that pathetic._

_And then the door creaked open and some evening breeze let itself in._

_"Hey." Prentiss said, her mind without a doubt full of excuses and apologies. Hotch didn't want to hear them._

_"I made s'mores." He said because he is such a dolt; Prentiss looked a little surprised._

_"S'mores?"_

_"Jack's favourite and they're kind of disgusting and kind of delicious. If you're not hungry Em—"_

_She cut him off but he didn't mind, in fact he was quite grateful. "That sounds delightful right about now, Hotch."_

_Eyebrows cocked and faking a "whatever" shrug of the shoulders, Hotch led them into the kitchen where there was in fact a plate of fat-acular, chocolate lathered s'mores. Prentiss gave him a look that almost scared him because of how much it reminded him of Jack when he wanted something. Hotch got out the milk. For next fifteen minutes they ate s'mores and talked and drank their milk and talked and Prentiss had tea while they talked. They talked about the long day Prentiss had and how Hotch wanted to keep Jack at age four forever. They talked until they needed to go to sleep and since that was the reason for her being over they went upstairs and did just that._

_They slept; Emily in a pair of old pajamas she brought from home and Hotch wearing a white t-shirt and flannel pants. She slept on the left side of the bed and he on the right also known as "Haley's side of the bed". Positioned on her left side, Prentiss had her left arm stuffed under a pillow and her right hand flattening out her half of the bedspread. Hotch wanted to ask what was wrong but soon decided against it; she would tell him in time._

_"Hotch?" A voice called softly, questioning and almost forlorn yet at the same time comfortable._

_"Yes?"_

_The blankets rustle a little and her foot bumps against his; "thanks for this." Prentiss tells him._

_"You say that every time." Hotch points out but he is not accusing and he thinks she appreciates that, after all she does keep coming back and continues to let him in, he must be doing something right._

_"I know." Prentiss admits, sleepier now, Hotch can tell. "But thanks anyways."_

_Hotch scooted closer, not touching her yet but closer still. He moved close enough to be only have a few inches between them and when Prentiss did nothing to move away he settled himself beside her. The whole room is black with the only exception being an intruder beam of moonlight that filtered through the curtains, Hotch realizes only now how beautiful she is when she's in the awkward space of half-asleep and dreaming._

_"Goodnight, Hotch." She whispers, reading his mind._

_"Goodnight, Emily." He replies, really wishing it hadn't sounded so much like a "goodbye"._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** Okay, I just want to say _one_ thing before I get to all the other stuff and that one thing would be..."_wow_". Now there are many good reasons as to why I would be saying that after completing this so I am going to go through them all with you! Brace yourselves, coz' you're in for a wild ride.

1) That was one L-O-N-G, _Long_, chapter. I certainly had no intention of prattling on and on, endlessly but once I started the chapter didn't make much sense without all of the components there. Am I right or am I right? Yeah, I thought so ;D.

2) I want to thank all of you who have been so kind with your reviews; you motivate me like you would never believe. So keep 'em coming! :D

3) You may see something of a pattern arise in each chapter and that would be because there is one ;D. Since the story is essentially Emily's story of her abduction and her own inner and external conflicts I like to make my flashbacks about Hotch. Now I understand that we get to see him in action in regards to the team and the actual investigation but I guess I like having a whole piece of the chapter dedicated to him. (Damn I love Thomas Gibson :O). You didn't read that ;D.

4) I am beginning chapter three ASAP so you do not have to worry about any indefinite hiatuses (refer to any WIP story on my profile) any time soon :D.

5) *Retreats to MS Word to begin the "_much_" anticipated chapter three* :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** Paget Brewster for her role as Emily Prentiss, in particular her performance in the episode "Outfoxed" which was _phenomenal_.

**Date of Completion: **April 3rd 2010

**Author's Comment:** Upon watching "Outfoxed" (season 5, episode 8) I have decided that the character of Emily Prentiss is even more amazing than I originally perceived. Mind you I've always thought that Prentiss was pretty damn incredible but this episode was another shining moment, add in the fact that many of the scenes included Thomas Gibson I have to say I was very impressed. So you all know how I feel about Hotch (_Babe_ with a capital _B_!) and of course how much I adore Prentiss (can you say fan-_freaking_-tabulous?) I have to admit I may become an actual fangirl of the pairing. Now I don't know if it would totally work out or whatever but they have something between them that intrigues me and I figure if they're both awesome individually they must be great together, no? Whatever, I'm rambling now so please continue on ;D.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3. Predator and Prey**

_"In some families, __please_ is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was _sorry_." 

_~Margaret Laurence_

_

* * *

_

_11:15AM  
__Tuesday March 23__rd __2010  
____The Nolan Household_

As it turned out Renée was not going to be much help to Emily. _Figures._ Prentiss thought bitterly but before she had the chance to continue her investigation of the one person who seemed competent in the household, little footsteps interrupted her train of thought. Emily turned to face the young girl she had seen earlier that morning at the breakfast table. The child looked up at Emily with an inquisitive expression that only children under the age of eight could truly master. Prentiss put on a charming smile.

"Aunt Renée," the girl spoke to her aunt who had now completed washing, drying, and putting away the dishes as well as cleaning the floors and counter tops. "When does school start?"

_That's right,_ Emily thought silently. _Why aren't the children in school; what day is it?_

Renée finished drying her hands before walking around the island counter-top to where the girl was and when she hefted the child on to her hip Emily could see all the similarities between them.

The girl, who was probably around the age of five or six, had the same russet hair as her aunt but her curls were much thicker and traditionally beautiful. They shared the same pale skin-tone and dark brown eyes, however the younger of the two had a more chocolaty appeal. Together the two certainly looked like the came from the same gene pool.

"We'll begin in a few minutes, darling. Why don't you get out your work books and supplies?" Renée asked, kissing the girl's cheek as she let her back down to the ground level. Racing off, the girl hurried up the stairwell and disappeared upstairs. Prentiss turned to Renée with a face that screamed "interested".

Prentiss preceded cautiously. "Cute kid. What's her name?"

"Andrea." Renée answered, looking almost upset.

Emily continued with an even more gentle tone. "She's Zephyr's?"

The question and answer were both pretty obvious in Emily's mind. Prentiss was assuming that by Andrea calling Renée her aunt she was related somehow, whether it be biologically or emotionally. Awaiting a reply Emily inspected the anxious aura that surrounded Renée as well as the way that her spine straightened and lips grimaced.

"Yes." Renée breathed, not bitter but not all too pleasant. "She and Phoenix. Temperance was their mother."

Little feet bounded into the kitchen again, this time Andrea had a small checkered tote bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing a green and purple plaid skirt with a matching plum long sleeve. She smiled and Emily could see dimples and loose teeth. Andrea was the very picture of childhood innocence and Prentiss had no desire to learn she was anything other than that perception.

"School time?" Andrea asked her aunt again.

"Just a moment, Cheri." Renée hushed the child and turned to the drawer on her right, retrieving something that Emily could not see.

Once Renée turned to face Emily again the BAU agent and the young girl could clearly see what was in Renée's hand. A gun and handcuffs. She placed the metal chains on the counter, sliding them closer to the side where Andrea stood, who was now watching the scene unfold.

"Now I understand that you have been planning on _escaping_ and that is reasonable for a woman in your position but you _must_ realize that you cannot just up and leave," Renée told Prentiss pointedly while aiming the gun directly at her head. "I have seen this happen too many times before and I assure you that I am not a hesitant woman when it comes to matters such as these. Did you know the longest I've seen one live through a bullet I have fired was no longer than the first syllable of their last word? In your best interest I would not give me any to prove my competence."

Emily inhaled and exhaled for she too had seen this all before, too many times for her liking in fact.

"Think about what you're doing Renée." Prentiss began calmly. "Do you really want another experience under your belt?"

Renée blinked once and then twice and then turned to Andrea. "Put the bracelets on her, Cheri."

Prentiss did not move knowing fully well that Renée _would _shoot and obviously had been in a situation like this before, likely multiple times before. But surprisingly it was not just the fact that this woman was obviously trained that made Prentiss remain still her stance but rather that this time she had no back up, no weapon of her own, and no way of knowing what Renée was truly capable of. It was all so immobilizing. Two cuffs clamped down on her wrists and Emily could not believe that it was actually this little girl doing this. The girl had her tongue stuck out a little in concentration, her brows coming together, and her stumbling hands fastening the chains on the BAU agent behind her back.

"Now the ankles, Cheri." Renée instructed Andrea, handing her another set of cuffs to limit Emily's movement. Andrea nodded and worked quicker this time, locking the chains around Prentiss' ankles. "Very good, Andrea. Very good, Cheri."

As Renée led Andrea into the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, the gun in one hand and her niece's in the other, she called for Phoenix before retreating to the basement with the young girl in tow. Prentiss could only stand there in silence, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

* * *

_11:30AM  
__Tuesday March 23__rd__ 2010  
__BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

Penelope Garcia was in semi-fantastic mood, all things considered of course. Actually the reason why she was in such a fantastic mood was directly relevant to why she wouldn't be so pleased. Ironic, no? Definitely but not the point right now. The point was that after checking and double checking Missing Persons like Santa and his "naughty or nice" list, Garcia had managed to find three individual cases (and victims) who shared distinct similarities with one Emily Prentiss. Wonderful, right?

"Three women over the course of six years. All three victims are in their late thirties, brunette with brown eyes, and were at least five feet and seven inches tall." Garcia informed the team who had now regrouped to the conference room with some newly acquired information that would hopefully assist them in finding Prentiss as soon as possible.

Rossi glanced at a file and at the three pictures of three beautiful women on the screen before him. When he spoke everyone turned to listen. "First victim; Alana Dayley. Alana went missing November 2nd 2004, at which point she was thirty six years old, married to Axel Dayley and had a six year old son with him named Colin."

In the picture from her file--the most recent Axel Dayley had at the time--Alana was wearing a pinstripe, skin tight, navy blue "gangster girl" costume complete with a V-neck suit jacket, knee length skirt with a slit in the side, and black pantyhose. Her dark brown hair was pinned up with the exception of curly twin tendrils that framed her pretty face. The picture had been taken at the Halloween party that the Dayley's had hosted two days before Alana's abduction. But it was not only Alana in the picture but also Axel dressed as a mobster and little Colin placed between them with his own pinstriped suit, hat and tie combo, and toy gun. It was obvious that they had planned on a theme that year but they managed to pull it off.

"Alana was last seen by her husband who had been home with their son when she left for a jog in the late afternoon. Axel contacted his local PD when Alana had yet to come home for hours and they began a missing persons' investigation that eventually turned into a cold case." Rossi told the group as he recalled what he had read from her file but there was something that niggled at the back of his mind and it seemed as if he weren't the only one.

Morgan spoke first. "So what do Alana and Prentiss have in common other than the fact that they look alike and are around the same age bracket. I mean sure that gives us a good idea of any future targets, which according to our UNSUB's history there likely will be, but we're going to need more than that to profile him properly."

Everyone was aware that Morgan was correct but that did not make it any easier to hear out loud what they were all thinking.

"It would help to look at the second victim, see what she has in common with Em and Alana." JJ suggested, taking a file from the table to look through. The team conversed amongst themselves about how else the BAU agent and the wife and mother.

JJ spoke up once she had a chance to scan the file and recited all of the basics of the life this woman had before she was taken away from it. "Second victim--Jamie Kent--was reported missing by her husband of thirteen years when she didn't return home from work April 18th 2007. Born January 12th 1970; Jamie was married to Victor Kent who she met at the high school where she later was hired as a teacher. Together, she and Victor had a five and half year old son named Isaac."

The photograph Garcia found in Jamie Kent's Missing Person report the aforementioned woman was kneeling with her son standing up beside her. Both of them were wearing bathing suits and standing in front of an indoor swimming pool, Isaac in blue board-shorts and Jamie in a well-fit black one-piece. Looking at the photograph you could see that Isaac got his looks from his mother. They were both smiling ear-to-ear, their milk chocolate brown hair and doe brown eyes nearly penetrating the camera lens. It had been taken by Victor while the family of three was visiting his side of the family for a reunion that took place the weekend before her abduction.

Hotch blinked at the three different woman, each one striking and resembling the next. The abductor obviously had a "type" he was going after. Before Hotch was given the chance to dwell on some less than pleasant thoughts Reid interrupted his worried mind with the comfort of grounding facts and unbiased opinion.

"Look at the first two victims; two beautiful women with beautiful families. Alana and Jamie are wives and mothers of one child, a boy. Emily is the exception to this but the where and how of her abduction fits. Last seen in the presence of Hotch, a father of a young boy. Our Unsub may be seeing his victims as his own mother or the mother of his child. In the case that he sees them as his mother and himself as the child he could be dealing with abandonment issues or childhood abuse/neglect but since no bodies have shown up we can't be sure. On the other hand if he sees the women as a mother figure for his own child it could again be rooted in issues with abandonment or fear of being a bad partner but also fear of being failure as a single parent. This is assuming, of course, that he even is a single parent."

Morgan spoke up with his response; "but the abductions range over a course of six years so if this man had a son he'd be aging accordingly."

Reid nodded and continued. "It is likely that either the Unsub has dealt with abandonment or abuse/neglect around the age of five or six himself or it happened to his own son at that age. If he sees the women as his own mother he may try to prove himself sexually by priding himself on his masculinity, emotional and physical strength, and power over her. However if he sees the women as a previous partner he could be physically violent and dominate them by abusing them both physically and emotionally. On the flip side if he_ is _a single father and the role of mother comes into play the Unsub is likely kinder, more understanding, and desperate to mend whatever issues he had before in relationships. He has insecurities about being a single father and needs a woman to play the role of wife and caregiver."

"So Emily's chances are better if the Unsub is a father," Rossi concluded, praying to whatever God there was that this Unsub had a child.

Reid nodded and the team fell into a moment of silence, absorbing the reality of the case. It scared them to think that Emily was even in this situation let alone may not make it out alive. Every day they were faced with cases like these, people being snatched away from lives or lifestyles. Being abducted, assaulted, and/or murdered but this was different because this time it was one of their own. Hotch gave directions without thinking, he moved without thinking, he made it through the rest of the day in slow motion and every time someone approached him with a look of concern he was brush them off and tell he was "fine". Hotch did not even register that he was lying, instead he let the shock settle over him until he was too far gone to even accept the reality of what was happening to Prentiss. The illusion of her safety and his memories were so much more comforting.

* * *

_12:15PM  
____Tuesday March 23__rd __2010  
________The Nolan Household_

_Why? Why? Why? Why did I have to freeze?_ Emily asked herself desperately as she pulled at the chains despite the fact she knew that wouldn't loosen them at all.

_I have been in situations like these dozens of times before. Why the Hell didn't I fight back? God only knows what will happen now that I'm completely vulnerable._

"Are you okay?" Someone asked Emily, shaking her from herself. "Because you look like you're going to be sick or something."

When Emily strayed from her thoughts and looked towards the person who was speaking she came face-to-face with four feet and eight inches of who she assumed was 'Phoenix'.

"Uhm, no, I'm not fine." Emily admitted, twisting her cuffs as she spoke. "You see I don't where I am and I need to go home."

The boy stared blankly at Emily and then the wrist and ankle shackles and then back up to her face before responding. "Dad says you're our Mommy and you live with us now."

_Of course, what else had I expected? Of course this man has made his children believe that I'm his wife or their mother or whatever in this twisted game. What the Hell happened to his wife that he's doing this to me and them?_

"Do you not have a Mommy?"

Phoenix looked Emily in the eye innocently and blinked once. "No. She went away."

_Went away? That has to mean 'dead', that or she walked out._

"Where did she go? Did she or your father tell you?" Emily tried again, desperate for enough information to figure the situation out.

There was a pause and then Phoenix moved to sit beside her on the couch, the only place Prentiss could manage to get to without falling flat on her face. The boy sat sideways with his legs crossed, now facing Emily.

"Dad said she went to live with the angels but that just means she died. She died a long time ago, when I was like five years old."

Prentiss felt a twinge of sadness in heart when she heard this, especially from the son. She felt that same twinge of pain when she dealt with child victims or even when she overheard Jack at night, talking to his mother. From her own experience Emily didn't have the easiest or best relationship with her mother but she could not imagine not having her, the pain always blinded her. But as badly as Emily felt the BAU agent in her was working in overdrive. Temperance, a wife and mother, had died probably five or six years ago. If Zephyr couldn't deal with the pain of losing someone he truly cared for he may be a risk to his children which would explain Renée, a substitute woman to play the role of mother for his children. Of course if Renée was already taking care of his children why would Zephyr feel the need to abduct her? To play the role of wife? She needed more information.

"I am so sorry she's gone. You must miss her a lot."

The boy picked at his shirt and then traced patterns on his jeans, answering quieter now. "Not as much as Dad does."

"Why? Does he talk about her a lot? Do you have pictures or special things of hers that he keeps?"

Phoenix shook his head "no" and his wavy brown hair covered his eyes; he definitely needed a haircut. "He doesn't talk about Mom anymore, he just brings home other ladies."

This piqued some interest in Emily.

"Ladies?"

The boy nodded "yes" and reached out to touch Emily's hair, he looked kind of sad, maybe nostalgic. "Like you. Brown hair, brown eyes. He tells us that they're mom but they're not because she's dead and as been for a long time. The ladies don't stay long."

Now was that last part good news or bad?

_

* * *

_

_7:22PM  
Thursday March 18th 2010  
The Hotchner Household_

_Jack Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner's own flesh and blood, was an evil little manipulator with a mean streak for getting what he wanted, when and how he wanted it. At first Hotch had seen it as a bit of an annoyance to see people crumble before Jack but now he kind of takes pride in it. The way Jack could argue a something until the point where you're either too exhausted from his energy or too frustrated with being proven wrong to fight back, or how all it took was one flash of his adorable dimples and green/brown eyes and suddenly you were too far gone, and with the addition of him being just four and a half years old one was powerless to say "no". Emily Prentiss was the poster woman of being no good at turning Jack Hotchner down._

___And he knew it too._  


_"One more, Aunt Em'ly, one more!" __Jack cries happily from the living room where Hotch has left him and Prentiss moments before._

_Hotch smiles and shakes his head at the sound of playing and giggling coming from the next room. Grabbing the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, Hotch starts on his way back to the living room when he hears a pair of feet and a battle cry heading in his direction._

_"Popcorn!" Jack noticed the instant he and Prentiss enter the kitchen. "Popcorn, Aunt Em'ly!"_

_Prentiss laughed in response and nodded in agreement, "I see it too, Jackie."_

_Hotch raises an eyebrow when Prentiss lowers herself so Jack can reach the popcorn bowl and grabbed a little fistful of overly buttered popcorn, feeding a few to his "aunt"._

_"Having fun, Prentiss?" Hotch asks, handing her a glass of water with a smile._

_Jack tightens his legs' grip on Prentiss' neck and she wheezes a little before answering. "Loads."_

_This was one of the reasons why Hotch truly enjoys having Prentiss over to his home, the way she treats Jack like her own and they way that Jack looks up at her like an idol. The two of them click in a way that pleases Hotch to no end, maybe it was how playful and familiar the two were together or just the way that they make it so Hotch doesn't need to think about everything bad he faces each day. It felt like him, Hayley, and Jack back in the beginning. Oh Hayley._

_"Come on Jack, Aunt Emily must be getting tired and you too, buddy." Hotch tells his son as he lifts Jack from Prentiss' shoulders and places him on the floor gently._

_"I'm not tired, Daddy." The young boy informs his father, reaching for more popcorn. "You're not tired either, Aunt Em'ly. Right?"_

_Sighing and smiling, Prentiss shakes her head "no" but still encourages the idea of them all sitting down to watch something on TV. "Something quiet." She corrects herself shortly afterwards. Hotch smirks a little when he watches Emily flop down on to one of the seats in the living only to have Jack crawl up beside her._

_Leave it to Jack Hotchner to wear down two BAU agents in the time span of forty five minutes. A new record, surely._

_Hotch sets the TV to a rerun of "The Simpsons" for Jack and watches as Prentiss splits her attention between the television screen and rubbing Jack's back soothingly. She is really good with him; a natural._

_About halfway through the episode Hotch notices Prentiss' eyelids coming to a close only to flutter back open seconds later, obviously trying to ward off sleep. It seems that Jack has noticed too and he seems to think a good way to keep someone from falling asleep is to peel open their eyelids._

_"Aunt Em'ly," Jack whispers softly. "Are you sleeping?"_

_Again Prentiss shakes her head "no" and drops her head back over the armrest. "Just napping, bubby."_

_"Oh," Jack says in that way that Hotch knew meant there was another question fast approaching. "Can I nap with you?"_

_This time Prentiss has her eyes closed but Hotch can see her smile from across the room. "Of course you can, Jackie."_

_After about fifteen more minutes Hotch can tell that both Prentiss and Jack are fast asleep; Jack's face snuggled into Prentiss' neck and her right hand placed on his back. The BAU agent turns the television set off and put away the remainder of the popcorn, deciding not to risk waking either Prentiss or his son from their slumbers. Smoothing a blanket over the dozing duo, Hotch kisses his son on the temple and cautiously brushes some hair from Prentiss' face._

_"Sweet dreams," he whispers to either one of them and then silently heads up the stairs._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **Finally! I _finally_ finished this chapter :P. Now I don't know about you guys but that took _forever._ Am I exaggerating? You tell me because it felt like ages to me.

Okay, since I do not Emily Prentiss' exact age I am going to say she is in her late thirties since after watching 3x19 I learned that she was in high school in 1989 which assumes that by 2010 she would be in her late thirties. Kay? :D

_Alrighty_, so this has been bothering me for most the chapter now; I am not a BAU agent, I have never profiled a person in my life, nor have I ever been held captive by a strange man and his family before (thank gosh) so I am not writing any of this from experience but only from what I understand of the show and the characters. I realize that Emily likely would not react the way that she did but I do know that shock can make you do things you wouldn't normally do and I figure being kidnapped, held at gun point, and without any of kind of back up it would be pretty shocking even to the most experienced person. Also I do not know if the analysis that Reid did in this chapter is at all correct but I've been watching the profiling scenes from episodes to study so I hope it is not totally unrealistic to the point where you are frustrated with me. And, if by chance I am that incorrect, please feel free to re-read the shippy part of this chapter; the flashback sequence!! :D

Well I hope I did this justice and that you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last two (perhaps more? o.O) and that you will continue to critic and compliment in your reviews ;D. Thank you so much for reading and have a very happy weekend/Easter! (I am _so_ PC xD)

With love, CSIAly


	4. Chapter 4

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** To the fantastic Dr. Spencer Reid who is both brilliant and adorable. And the answer to your inevitable question would be "yes, I have a streak going with dedicating chapters to characters" xD.

**Date of Completion: **Friday April 9th 2010

**Author's Comment:** I finally finished it! Now I know I should have posted it sooner (almost a week? I'm getting slow) but I've been up to my neck in things to do all week. Two compositions for French, a Geography test, and planning a birthday party :P. So I'm thinking that I will be beginning chapter five tomorrow evening. At the earliest. In the meantime I am going to watch a marathon of Criminal Minds episodes on A&E while I clean for the birthday party that Brittany (my lovely, now fifteen year old friend) and I will be hosting tomorrow since my 15th birthday is the 11th :D. Until then, my friends, enjoy!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4. House Arrest**

_"There is peace and rest and comfort in sorrow."_

_Soren Kierkegaard._

* * *

_2:50PM  
Tuesday March 23rd __2010  
The Nolan Household_

It had been almost three hours since Renée and Andrea left Emily alone and Phoenix was doing a surprisingly good job of keeping the BAU agent entertained. He had shared little information of his mother and family after their previous Q&A however he did share some personal information including his age; which would be twelve years old in early April, how much he loved school in particularly English, PE, and Social Studies. Phoenix explained the origin of his name and how much he loved to read, that he could hunt and fish and that he had girlfriend. Emily found herself amazed by how invested she already was in this boy who was quite articulate and mature for his age, something she had not realized when they first conversed.

Phoenix explained to Emily that Andrea was home-schooled by their aunt because she was born with mental disabilities that limited some of her speech and made it difficult to communicate with other children. He asked if Emily had any brothers or sister and when she answered "no" Phoenix went on to tell her how lucky she was for that. Emily could not believe it but soon enough she was actually _enjoying_ herself. As it turned out she and Phoenix had much in common as they were both self-proclaimed nerds, because who wouldn't find ancient History fascinating? They adored Italian food, cannoli versus ravioli was a _great_ debate; and they both _needed_ chocolate to survive but it couldn't be any of that milk chocolate crap because they only went for the really good dark chocolate stuff.

"You said you're an only child," Phoenix mentioned, bringing up an earlier part of the conversation. "But are you married or have kids or something?"

Prentiss paused for a moment, not so much to weigh the choice to tell Phoenix or not but rather to take a moment to think about why she didn't. When she answered she tried not to sound as awkward as she's sure did. "Uhm, no. No husband and no children either."

At her answer Phoenix nodded and redirected his gaze to the abandoned game of checkers they had been playing, the one that Emily could only play by vocal direction because Phoenix refused to unlock the handcuffs. So far the game was tied with both of them having a King and four of each other's pieces. They were duelling for the title of "Checkers' Master" since both the BAU agent and the eleven year old were skilled in the strategy of Checkers.

"Usually the other ladies have a family."

Emily held her breath and her expression fell serious, she and Phoenix stared each other down for a few seconds.

"Phoenix, I _promise_ you that you won't get in any trouble if you tell me about the other women. I need to know what they did, or your father did, or your Aunt Renée did. Okay?"

He knew how serious Emily was being now, how much she needed to know what was going on around her and what everyone else was capable of and _who_ everyone was. Phoenix understood the confusion she was feeling, that something in the back of your brain telling you something is awry. Time and time again he had tried to squash the notion that anything he was experiencing in his childhood was abnormal but he could never quite defeat it. It had to be something about his mother; after all she was where everything came together. From the fact that his Aunt Renée lived with them to why Andrea needed to be home-schooled to the very reason why this woman named "Emily" was even in his home. Everything led back to his mother, the mother that his father was persuading him to believe Emily was. But she wasn't and Phoenix knew it.

"I don't know what the ladies did, I guess Dad just met them and decided for them to come here. He'd tell us that they were our mother and that they'd be living with us from now on. Aunt Renée would have Andrea or me put on the cuffs so that they couldn't' leave while Dad was at work. Then when Dad came home he'd treat them like they were actually Mom. He'd tell us to call them that and when they were _better adjusted_ to the house they wouldn't have to wear the hand and ankle cuffs. They never stayed more than a day or two."

Prentiss swallowed and jerked at her bound wrists, wishing more than anything to be free of them. "Does he let them go? Do they get to leave?"

The boy sighed and began putting away the game board and pieces of their Checkers game instead of answering the woman.

"Phoenix, you need to tell me what happened to the women? Did your father ever hurt them?"

Phoenix stilled but spoke his response with his back to Emily. "Not ever. Dad never hurts the ladies."

Relief instantly flooded through Prentiss' body as she let Phoenix's words comfort her worried self, that is until he spoke up again but this time with no encouragement on Prentiss' part.

"He takes them down to the basement and Aunt Renée takes Dad's gun downstairs. There are shots and uhm…uh…well you just hear these gunshots, like maybe two or even three. Once I went downstairs a couple hours after Dad and Aunt Renée came back upstairs and looked for the lady but she wasn't there. But you could uhm…you could see the blood because it was like all over the wall. Everywhere, you know? A few days later Dad painted the whole basement yellow. The next time there was a lady taken downstairs he used green paint and the time after that blue."

She heaved a deep sigh as she watched the visibly shaken Phoenix resume cleaning up the board game and arranging a couple magazines on the coffee table. Emily knew she had to proceed because she needed to be certain. "Are you sure that's what happened? I do not doubt you Phoenix but you have to understand that it is _very _important that what you tell me is as honest as you can remember. Okay?"

Phoenix looked up at Emily, his eyes almost noticeably red-rimmed. He worked his jaw. "Just don't fight back, okay? They always put up a fight before he takes them downstairs."

* * *

_3:13PM__  
__Tuesday March 23rd __2010__  
__Prentiss' Apartment Building, Quantico, Virginia_

Rossi and JJ were sent to the local police department to learn as much as they possibly could about the abductions of Alana Dayley and Jamie Kent. They had spoken directly to the officers who had been working the cases and were updated on everything that the officers who had searched both Hotch's and Emily's homes found as well as everything they learned from canvassing their respective neighbourhoods. The conclusion that the police department had to offer was "not much". And although this was rather unfortunate news there was a silver lining; a woman in Emily's apartment building had made a complaint or two about a mysterious man lurking around the property on several occasions.

Naturally the BAU agents wasted no time getting to Prentiss' apartment.

Cassandra Helen Galatas is nothing what Rossi and JJ expected though. She stands five feet and ten inches tall in stature and has just past the shoulder-length wavy hair that is the colour of beach sand; it even matches her perfect tan and lovely complexion. Her eyes are shaped like almonds and are a hazel green colour, her body is slender yet fit, and every curve and curl is blessedly feminine. When she opens her mouth however her voice is nothing short of painful, obnoxious, and unmistakably stuck up.

The agents figure that Cassandra is the kind of woman who one would compare to a Venus flytrap since there is no doubt that she is beautiful but that she must also be approached with severe caution. Rossi and JJ show her their badges after she answers the door upon the first knock and allows them inside her apartment, the one that is one floor above Emily's and one apartment space to the right. When she shows them to her immaculately clean and furnished living room she offers them each tea, taking great pride in pointing out that the set of teacups and kettle combo are hand painted with a "splendid" floral design. Cherry blossoms. Coincidentally that happens to be the same scent as the perfume that Cassandra is currently wearing.

"So how do you know Emily Prentiss?" Rossi asks once Cassandra reappears from the kitchen with a tray that carries two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of water, there is also baklava that Cassandra claims is homemade.

According to Cassandra generations of Galatas have passed down the recipe and it is most definitely the most delicious thing your taste buds will have the pleasure of experiencing. In fact, Cassandra continues to boast, you haven't _lived_ until you've tried the Galatas' famous baklava. So to be polite, as well as to shut the Greek woman up, both JJ and Rossi try some of the homemade baklava and are appropriately miffed when it turns out that the Galatas have good reason to boast their family's baking skills.

"She's my neighbour." Cassandra informs them in a fashion that is so similar to that of a snobby teenager's that if she were not sitting adjacent to them with a thirty-something year old body the BAU agents would have assumed they plucked this woman out of a local high school.

"But did you know her personally? Ever run into her when getting the mail, groceries, maybe a block party? Anything like that."

Sipping her water, Cassandra informs the duo that she sees Emily often, usually in every day activities such as picking up dry-cleaning and morning jogs. Both women live hectic lives that have them coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Cassandra being a recently divorced cardiologist, the head of the department at the hospital she works at, she works crazy hours. Her ex-husband is a divorce lawyer who _somehow_ managed to get custody of their twin daughters so she only sees them every other weekend. She claims that as soon as she was served with divorce papers thirteen months ago she moved into her current apartment building and Emily Prentiss was the first person to welcome her. Apparently they hit off immediately; they even went out for cappuccinos on occasion.

Neither Rossi nor JJ had ever seen Emily drink a cappuccino. They were learning new things about her all day.

"Did you know if anyone had a problem with Emily? An ex or neighbour; someone she's ever made complaints about?"

Cassandra's delicate eyebrows draw together and even that small gesture seems flawless. "None that I can think of."

JJ speaks up next while placing the mug back down on the tray in front of her. "You've made complaints about a mysterious man lurking around the area before, haven't you? Did you feel as if that man was dangerous? Did he make any threats or approach yourself or anyone else in the building?"

The Greek woman sips at her water bottle again and leans back in her chair that is a cream colour and made of leather. At the mention of the mystery man, Cassandra's expression changes to one with a miniature frown one might wear when looking at a rather unattractive stain or creepy crawly interrupting an otherwise fine picnic. For some reason neither BAU agents can imagine that this particular expression is foreign to Cassandra's otherwise aesthetically pleasing face.

"Yes, there was a man recently. It started oh, I don't know, about a month and half ago? I'd say late January when I first noticed. I didn't think much of it until I saw him more often, maybe once or twice a week. At first I just thought he was visiting someone in the building but he just wandered around the garage or the main floor, I never saw him anywhere else in the building."

Rossi and JJ nod along, taking jot-notes on their individual notepads in messy writing. After they encourage her to continue her voice changes ever-so slightly, like the first few notes played in the eerie silence of a horror film right before the first kill.

"But once, a while after the first time I saw him, I went to the dry-cleaners and there he was." Cassandra sounds almost terrified but it seems she can sum up the strength to carry on in her recollections. "Innocent, right?"

But obviously it wasn't or else Cassandra wouldn't have used a tone that combined pissed off and afraid.

"Well that's what I believed until he showed up in the same coffee shop and mini-mart and drove his car around the neighborhood in circles. Then one night Emily was coming home from work around the same time I was--after eleven in the evening--and I could see him across the street, just sitting and staring. I tried to let it go but Emily could tell I was rattled, she asked me what was wrong and I told her about the man who had been hanging around lately. She asked a lot of the same questions the police did but I knew she believed me more than they did because she walked me upstairs and reminded me to lock up, she did that every time we went in the building without fail."

Shivering slightly in her seat, the hostess sipped at her water and offered more tea to her guests, who declined in favour of hearing more.

"Then a pattern emerged; he almost never showed up when Emily wasn't around. I mean one time, maybe twice? But no more than that and when she would leave so would he, only a couple minutes afterwards." Cassandra sounds so certain of herself and her memories, as if she had ESP and had seen that this would be happening all along.

When she speaks again it is much less confidant, almost timid but mostly just scared and despite the fact that JJ and Rossi would prefer a root canal to Cassandra Galatas they feel the natural instinct to comfort reappear at the look on her face. She is not at all what she was moments earlier and anyone can see that she is upset.

"He took her, didn't he?" She asks, voice trembling awkwardly, like it just might slip. Neither Rossi nor JJ answer, they don't want Cassandra to have to deal with the reality, hell they barely can themselves.

"He did." Cassandra answers the question herself and then sets her eyes on both of the agents'. "You have to find her."

What she says is not a demand but also not a request, just something to be said, something solid and promising. Sensibility in a time of confusion.

"We may need your help to do that, Miss Galatas." Rossi tells her, informative but gentle, and he can tell that she is appreciative by the way she relaxes at his words.

Her head bobs up and down, curls flying everywhere, and assures them that she will do anything she can to help. From the corner of her eyes, JJ can read the time off of a wall mounted clock, it reads 3:46 and she cannot help but wonder, despite her attempt at a confidant demeanor, how long Emily has.

_____

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_

_10:48PM  
__Wednesday March 10__th__ 2010  
__Hotchner Household_

_When he hears a rhythmic knock on the door he knows it's Prentiss, he doesn't even have to think to remember that knock. Stumbling, Hotch answers the door if only to prevent her from knocking again for the noise is murdering his head with the power of a hundred sledgehammers. Funny, he usually doesn't get so head-achey. The knocking reappears and he swears to God he just may have to kill her if she plans on keeping it up._

"_You called?" Prentiss asks but it isn't much of a question and she isn't the least bit annoyed with him, only surprised and what Hotch assumes is concerned. He lets her slip in the doorway, between him and the threshold._

"_Uh yeah, I hope I di'int inerrupt anythin." Hotch slurs slightly, unable to keep balance of his physical self any better than his mental. Prentiss shakes her head "no" and asks him without hesitation how many he had to drink tonight. He can't say he is at all surprised because he is fully aware that he reeks of bourbon and orange juice and vodka._

_For a moment Hotch cannot remember how much he had to drink only that he did. There was orange juice in the fridge, a brand new carton he picked up just the day before and already almost finished by himself from making screwdrivers. Then, when he was sure his body couldn't handle any more citrus he dug out the only bottle of bourbon he had and took a swig or two. The room swirled and Prentiss caught him before he fell. Okay, so maybe more than a "few"._

_Prentiss wastes no time whisking him off to bed and because he is hammered he says some things that one in their right mind would not say to a woman who knows how to kill you with a paperclip. Not that she takes it personally—she has first hand experience with being outspoken while under the influence—but Hotch doesn't believe that many of the things he is slurring are an accurate description of his fantasy life and perception of her. He prefers her not knowing anyway._

"_It's the case, isn't it?" Prentiss asks once they make it to his bedroom. Hotch lands on the bed with thud!_

"_N-hic-o." The drunken BAU agent lies with his eyes only half-open and clothes in disarray. It is the case though, a really hard on that was getting to him. Their Unsub was a serial killer who was victimizing young women in the region. First he kidnapped them and then he made them perform sexual acts on either himself or other victims that he would take pictures of. After he was done using the women he'd send the photos to the local police department to mess with the office; then the latest victim's pictures showed up on Hotch's desk. Rossi and Morgan told to go home and sleep or relax or something, just try not to think about the case as much, it was taking a toll on him._

_Emily helps him out of his shirt and belt but keeps him in his pants, mostly because he's almost asleep as she helps him but on an old band shirt. When she excuses herself to clean up the kitchen Hotch rolls over beneath the blankets and stops her with his voice._

"_Pre-hic-ntiss," Hotch hiccups. "Stay?"_

_Now how could she ever say no to that kind of invitation._

"_Of course. Where's Jack?"_

_His answer was a muffled, "Jez-hic-a's."_

_Hotch watches with bleary eyes as Prentiss excused herself to the bathroom to change, grabbing the spare purple and white striped pyjama pants and matching pale purple tank top she kept in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He can hear her brushing her teeth and probably brushing her hair as well. When she re-enters the bedroom she is shuffling across the hardwood floor of the bedroom, Prentiss climbs on to the bed and slipped beneath the covers._

"_I cou'int save her," he murmurs more to himself then to Prentiss._

"_Oh Hotch," Emily sighs and speaks oh-so softly. "You did your very best. It's not your fault that he took her life."_

_There is no response but that could just be because sleep is finally catching up to Hotch or the fact that he could be blatantly ignoring the comment. It is Hotch's nature to do better than the best, to save the day, to be the protector, and the rock. So yes, he hates moments like these, moments of needing someone, moments of weakness._

_When he does speak it is a solid couple of minutes later and Prentiss is surprised because she thought he would be conked out by now. In his drunken stupor he pronounces her name as "Ehh-meh-lee" so all the syllables were a little dragged out and awkward sounding. She encourages him to continue and when he asks her in an almost inaudible tone of voice how she manages to make it through nights like these without falling apart—or emptying the liquor cabinet—she can't help but let the truth tumble out._

"_I come over here." Prentiss confesses and Hotch rolls from his back to his stomach. His head lays sideways on the pillow facing her and he takes a moment to stare at her, maybe trying to read her?_

_Instead of answering Hotch simply nods and the two agents settle into their respective sides of the bed, Hotch still lying facing her which seems odd because usually they face away from one another or fall asleep and shift their positions. This time, however, Hotch lies still until Prentiss loses herself to her exhaustion and doesn't follow until some time after; he has too much adrenaline to sleep right now. She's asleep facing him but then rearranges herself so she's lying flat on her back with hair a splayed across the pillow. He stays in this position for the rest of the evening and well into the morning so that it is Prentiss he sees last before falling asleep and the first thing when he wakes up the next morning._

_

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**Author's Note:**

So now I am just dying to know what you all thought of the chapter because, personally, I _adored _the character of Cassandra, who's surname I believe means "milkman" in Greek although I remain uncertain xD. Yeah, sure, she _was_ a bit of a snob but she was an utter delight to write. No joke. I think she was the brightest thing about this story so far just because I have a strange sense of humour (that or a perverted one ;D) but I am awful at translating humour into the written word. Don't believe me? Go ahead and check out any of my alleged "humour" based fictions for all the evidence you need :P. Well apart from that and my great frustration in deciding whether or not the flashback sequence should be in the present or past-tense (which happened to end up with me just _being _tense) I cannot think of anything else to say other than to leave a review. How does that work? :D

Yours Truly, Mademoiselle Aly la sarcastique ;D.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For two close friends of mine; hearts break and mend my friends 3

**Date of Completion: **Monday April 19th 2010

**Author's Comment:** *Inconspicuously posts chapter five* Yes, I am aware it has been forever and half since I updated the story but you would not believe the writer's block / drama going on in my life right now (refers to the dedication du jour) so, yeah :P. But in the good news mood I _did_ complete the chapter and did post so y'all can't complain ;D. Well I guess I should stop ranting / rambling now so you can enjoy the actual story itself and not my autobiography xD.

PS: I think you all be in for a bit of a surprise during the chapter (you'll know what the surprise is once you reach it ;D).

**

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**Chapter 5. Playing House**

___Happy families are all_ alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.  


_-- __Leo Tolstoy_

_

* * *

_

_5:09PM  
__Tuesday March 23__rd__ 2010  
__The Nolan Household_

According to the family's regular household routine five o'clock in the evening was usually when Renée began cooking the dinner and since they had chicken last night it only made logical sense for them to be having beef tonight.

The brunette woman had been sitting on a stool at the island peeling away at the potatoes diligently for the past fifteen minutes and still bound by the handcuffs Prentiss could not do much but watch. With a vacant gaze, Emily kept her eyes trained on Renée who was merciless in shaving the skins. Her movements were jagged and harsh, she even muttered a few disdainful comments as she worked. Once she was done peeling and washing the potatoes, Renée beat them to death with hand blender dated back to the early nineties, no doubt. The whirring sound was so loud that one couldn't hear the CD that the young lady had been playing when she started preparing dinner. After she was done with the hand blender, Renée called out for Andrea who Emily last saw stumbling up the stairs.

"Keep your mum company, won't you Cheri?" Renée asked Andrea and the little girl just nodded and plodding into the living room with uneven steps.

Plopping down beside the couch, the small brunette girl awkwardly folded her legs beneath each other so that she was sitting cross-legged on the floor before Emily with a colouring book in her lap. Andrea was still wearing her plaid skirt from earlier with her matching plum long sleeve but this time there was the addition of jade green leggings and the fact that her hair wasn't fashioned to be down but instead was knotted up into a cute but messy bun with bangs that dangled over her eyebrows. She would need a haircut soon.

There is a pause but Emily had no intention of breaking it. It was not so much because she wants nothing to do with this girl who just earlier this day shackled her—although, if she was going to be completely honest with herself she hadn't exactly doing her best to protect herself—but instead Prentiss did not know what to say. The pause lags on for a minute while Andrea amuses herself with a button on the collar of her shirt and then a loose thread on her skirt. Next are the ribbons on her black ballet shoes and then her fingernails that happen to be chewed down to the skin. As if Andrea was in a world of her own, she barely made any contact with Emily and instead entertained herself. Prentiss had never seen someone with such a short attention span in her life.

When Andrea finally spoke it was both bubbly and awkward. She had told Emily that she liked to colour and when Prentiss asked—though she wasn't sure why this was her first response instead of hosting a mini-interrogation like she had with Phoenix—if she was going to be an artist when she was grown up. Andrea looked at Prentiss like the BAU agent had stated that the sky wasn't blue but instead a metallic silver. Shrugging in response, the young girl said that she was going to be a veg-rah-tare-ee-ann, which Emily had assumed meant "veterinarian" or "vegetarian". But nope, Emily was informed that she had been incorrect and that instead Andrea was hell-bent on becoming a veterinarian/chef who sang for "lots and lots of people" and when she wasn't doing that she would be a famous model.

Emily greatly admired the girl's enthusiasm as well as her dreamy eyed fantasies.

"What do you do?" Andrea asked but she was only half-paying attention, the other half of her attention focused on her colouring.

Prentiss thought of what she told children who were related to cases, what she told young victims, and the explanation that she could recall Jack Hotchner using to describe his father's occupation. "I catch the bad guys."

Dropping her bright red crayon, Andrea grasped a light blue on with all her fingers. "Oh," she said while making a holy mess of ocean or sky or whatever all over the page of her colouring book. "Like a cop?"

"Yeah, like a cop."

There was a pause while Andrea concentrated completely in her messy blue, red, yellow, and orange masterpiece and despite herself Emily couldn't help but think about how truly innocent this girl was, how sweet and intelligent Phoenix had seemed, how Renee could melt from cold to warm-hearted in ten seconds flat, and how that man--_Zephyr_--smiled so goddamn charmingly. It tempted Prentiss to believe that she was in a fantasy and that these people were good, kind, admirable people.

_Except they drug, kidnap, and kill innocent women. That or they assist in such acts. _The BAU agent thought bitterly.

"But you don't get the bad guys _all_ the time, do you?" The young girl asked, not looking up from her intense drawing. Prentiss felt surprised by this comment, mostly because Andrea had been so quiet that the sudden speech shocked her from her train of thought. "Cuz' sometimes Dad lets Phoenix watch C-S-I and they don't get the bad guy all of the time."

_The girl has a point; you don't always get the bad guy. _Something whispered to Emily, something that sounded frustratingly honest.

Then something softer spoke to her, a voice that sounded weak and broken. _Are you going to let this be one of those times?_

* * *

_6:04PM  
__Tuesday March 23__rd__ 2010  
__Jessica Brooks' Residence_

Since Jack had a sleepover at a friend's house the previous evening his father didn't have to fret over his son's whereabouts, especially when he was dedicating all of his time on his recent case; the abduction of one SSA Emily Prentiss. Or at least what the team assumes to be abduction considering all of the evidence, the victimology, the nature of the crime, and the details of the case. But he wasn't obsessing, honest.

Today was Tuesday and this meant that Jack had to go to Kindergarten. Thankfully Melinda, the mother of Jack's friend, said she would take the boys after lunch and that it was no trouble, really. Hotch couldn't have been more grateful considering the circumstances, those being that he was hoping on spending the evening going through police reports, interviews and interrogations, and potential profiles for their Unsub. Unfortunately for Hotch, the SSA didn't realize that screening any and all calls or texts that weren't sent from his team meant that his cell was soon overloaded with messages and voice messages. He sighed and checked each one of them with the intent to call Jessica back but once Rossi saw Hotch slumped over his desk, working away, he practically kicked the man out of the office. Hotch was easily persuaded not because he didn't want to solve the case as quickly as humanly possible but because he didn't think he could last another minute reading and re-reading the case file of his subordinate and friend. It made him feel kind of dizzy.

So here he was, knocking on Jessica's door with brand new worry lines evident on his face and a tired expression. When Jessica answered the door she was in between unimpressed and concerned. She went with the concerned route first, like she normally did.

"What's going on Aaron?" Jessica asked as she ushered her ex-brother in law into the main foyer of her home. "I tried contacting you all day and you never answered."

"I've been assigned a new case," was all that Hotch said as he peered over the woman's shoulder so he could see into the living room where his son was lying on the carpet watching something on the television.

Jessica furrowed her brow and crossed her arms over her chest and only now did the usually observant agent Hotchner notice that his son's aunt was half-dressed with curlers in her hair and had no make up on. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance, not expecting her response.

"I have a date tonight, Aaron." She stated simply. "I need to get ready."

Translation: Where the hell were you when you said you would pick up your son?

"I'm so sorry Jessica," Hotch replied, hastily sticking together excuses. "This case kind of came out of no where and—"

"You're involved?" The blonde guessed with a note of knowing in her voice. Sometimes Hotch had to ask himself if he was truly that transparent because despite the fact that people were constantly assuring him that he was a private person but if you asked him he would swear he was an open book.

He swallowed slightly and spoke in a lower tone than he had used before. "One of our own went missing and we're pulling out all the stops."

Sombre, the woman held her breath for a moment; it was as if Jessica were actually afraid of scaring the BAU agent away and in a sense she was. She knew, from first hand experience, that Aaron Hotchner had to be approached with caution when it came to matters of the heart or work in that case, although the two often overlapped. Jessica understood better than most what Aaron was like when he let down his defences and it was either beautiful or tragic, often both. On the rare occasion that Aaron let down the shield that protected him from becoming too close or too hurt one could see how much he truly cared, how much he invested in the people around him, and it was such a sweet sight but at the same time so atypical that it usually took people for surprise.

"Who is it?" Is all that Jessica dared to ask.

"Agent Prentiss." Is all that Aaron was willing to answer.

Breath escapes Jessica for a moment while it registered in her mind. "Oh Aaron, I'm so sorry."

Hotch nodded curtly, a strange mixture of shame and thankfulness bubbling inside of him, something that makes him think he might just overflow.

Of course Jessica remembered Emily Prentiss since she was the own who dedicated one hundred and ten percent to Hotch and Jack whenever she had a moment to spare and sometimes even when she didn't. There would be times when Hotch would be stuck at a crime scene or obsessing in the office or whatever and Emily would pick up Jack from his aunt's or relieve Jessica of her babysitting duties. Jessica would watch Emily speak and play and work with Jack, surely an expert on child psychology and breaking the communication barrier. She could see how Emily's eyes lit up when they landed on Jack, how her professional demeanour would shed the moment she had the boy in her arms, and how her nephew would look at Emily with unabashed trust, understanding, and hope. It melted Jessica's heart because it reminded her too much of Haley. Of course it would never be the same—the relation or the bond—but it came pretty damn close.

"Do you need to me keep Jack for the night?" She offered and Hotch doesn't doubt that if he said the word Jessica would drop anything and do it.

The man simply shook his head left to right. "Go on your date."

"I can always take him, Aaron." Jessica assured him. "You know that."

"No, I'll take him. Team probably won't let me anywhere near the BAU until morning. Something about regular eating patterns and getting enough sleep."

Jessica bit her lower lip and nodded, turned on a heel, and collected Jack from the living room. Jack smiled broadly at the sight of his disheveled father and ran to hug Hotch because the young boy was still at that age where hugging parents was socially acceptable among his peers. Most of the time anyway. Hotch picked his son up like he had done dozens of times before, placed a kiss to the crown of his head which he was doing more and more since Haley's death, and thanked Jessica for taking time out of her evening to watch Jack. The blonde kissed her nephew's forehead and squeezed her ex-brother in law's arm comfortingly.

"Don't you worry, Aaron." Jessica told Hotch shortly. "You and your team--well they're the best. I know you'll find her."

Again, Hotch thanked his son's aunt, meaning every word of it. Once he was heading out to the car with Jack chatting away about his sleepover, his afternoon at Kindergarten, his sleepover at his friend's house, and just about everything else a four year old can prattle on about. But it didn't matter that much to Hotch at the moment, not to say that he didn't love listening to how animated Jack could become and how curious, intelligent, and usually innocent his questions and comments were but right now the only thing on Aaron Hotchner's mind was the case and what Jessica had said before he and Jack left her place.

_"I know you'll find her."_

Something in that sentence sounded promising to him, even motivational. Jessica knew that job and was fully aware of the awful truth that they don't always catch the "bad guy" and yet that didn't seem to deter her belief in him and the team. That was what made it so incredibly reassuring. So driving home, Hotch played the radio station that Jack liked and followed road safety rules with extreme caution. _No reason for any more carelessness._ His mind whispered to him in that acid tone that made Hotch cross between anger and sick. When the father and son arrived home Jack told his father that he wasn't very hungry because he had dinner at his aunt's previously, which apparently was tacos that Jack got to make himself. After telling Jack to get cleaned up then and change from his clothes to pajamas Hotch made himself some coffee. He didn't even think to draw a bath for his son who had grass stains in the knees of his jeans and sand in socks and shoes.

Jack complained a little about having to get into pajamas so soon in the evening but Hotch just popped in a DVD that his son loved and sat on the couch with him to watch the film. Once the movie was fast approaching it's ending Jack was already half asleep, leaning on his father. Hotch didn't dare get up from the couch not even when the furniture began to hurt his back or when his vision got fuzzy with tiredness or when Jack started to snore lightly. He wouldn't leave Jack alone for a minute, he couldn't, well not today anyway, not when it had been Hotch's leaving that allowed for Prentiss' abduction. Hotch didn't think he could afford losing any more so he stayed on that couch and lingered in between consciousness and slumber.

* * *

_7:32PM  
__Tuesday March 23__rd__ 2010  
__The Nolan Household_

Dinner had been quite the experience. Similar to the breakfast that Prentiss had walked in on the family sat in their respective seats around the dining table, passing food and communicating more than they had during the morning. Apparently Renee was having Andrea practice her vowels and constants, having already learned the rules of capitals and lower case letters, and as a result the young girl had been reciting phonics half the afternoon. Zephyr had wrapped up the construction of his latest project and met the man who would be conducting the safety inspection. He spoke proudly of his co-workers and superiors making Emily actually doubt that this man was capable of everything that was said about him and what she had experienced first hand.

_Show me a first-timer and I'll show you someone who hasn't been caught yet. _An evil voice whispered in Emily's ear as Zephyr took care to feed her the food that she would have been able to feed herself had she not been shackled.

Normally Emily's response to being cuffed and being placed in a dangerous situation would be to fight--actually it would be to not get cuffed in the first place--but right now she decided against it. It was like that time that she and Reid were held captive by Benjamin Cyrus during that case that took them to Colorado. She remembered being beaten, she remembered trying desperately not to fall apart, she remembered the blood--_her _blood--all over the place. It made her shiver and remain shell-shocked. If she fought what were her odds, really? There was no doubt that she could take a man down or protect her life but the circumstances were always different. In this case she was particularly vulnerable for a number of reasons.

Firstly she was taken while she was sleeping which meant she really couldn't have defended herself if her captor had drugged her, which she assumed Zephyr or Renee did. Emily was also alone in this house, unlike that time in Colorado, and did not have the comfort of knowing that someone who she trusted was with her even if that meant their life _was_ in danger. God, that made her feel awful. In addition to being alone in the house she knew there was no one on the outside negotiating or watching, coming up with strategies to get themselves in and her out, remaining in one piece. Hell, as far as Emily knew the team didn't even know where she was, let alone offering negotiation plans for her safe return. And Emily didn't blame her co-workers, she didn't hate them, and she didn't wish that they would lose sleep and kill themselves over her, she just wanted to know that there was room for her to hope and if she had be compliant and quiet to maintain that hope then she would.

After dinner came to a close the children thanked their aunt for cooking and cleared their plates before rushing in two different directions. Renee stationed herself at the sink and began to wash and dry and put away the dishes that the five of them had just used as well as the ones that had somehow accumulated over the day. Smiling a strangely genuine smile, almost charming really, had Emily not known what the man was capable of, Zephyr lead Emily upstairs and towards the bedroom she had awoken in hours previous.

The last thing that Emily saw before she felt her eyelids closing despite themselves was the warm hands of Zephyr on her, the cold bathroom tiles beneath her feet, and something stabbing her side. Emily could have sworn that the man had kissed her neck and murmured _love you _against her skin.

* * *

_9:42PM  
Friday February 26th 2010  
The Hotchner Household_

_When Aaron Hotchner had arrived home that evening, a combination between exhausted and elated, he had kicked off his shoes and undid his tie and made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He had spent the evening becoming reacquainted with a few friends whom he had felt drifting away in the overwhelming life of being a BAU agent. So over some beers and games of pool, he and his co-workers and few other friends had a great time and in his case a great, sober time since he__ knew that he would be driving himself home later. The only trouble was that not all of his co-workers/friends had been there because one had a prior commitment that simply could not be re-scheduled. A date, actually. Emily Prentiss had a date that evening. And it was a bit of an understatement to say that it had knocked the teams socks off. No offense intended, of course._

___So with the knowledge that Prentiss would likely be out on the town with a potential beau, Hotch found his way to his bedroom, not needing to worry about the whereabouts of his son since Jack was spending the evening with Haley's parents that weekend. The Brooks had wanted to visit Jack for sometime after Haley's funeral. The Brooks were all about family but they also understood that with Hotch's job that was not always able to happen however that weekend they had arranged it so that Jack could sleepover at their house. This meant that Hotch had come home expecting an empty house and was surprised to find that he had left a light on in the bedroom._

___"Prentiss?" Hotch had asked, confused more than anything. "Is that you?"_

_Who had Hotch assumed was Emily Prentiss, nodded her head from her place on the bed. She was positioned so that she was half lying on her left side with her knees drawn up. She had a look of blankness on her face._

_"Are you alright?" The BAU agent in Hotch had clicked into place at that point and had started to work in overdrive. "What happened?"_

_Prentiss only offered a small smile, one that had sent a wave of relief through Hotch. "Nothing."_

_Bullshit._

_Unfortunately for Aaron Hotchner he had been up against the stubborn streak of one Emily Prentiss. He didn't think he stood a chance. "Honestly Hotch, nothing happened."_

_His lips had thinned, his gaze narrowed, and he had adopted a softer tone of voice. "How was your date?"_

_Prentiss had readjusted herself so that she would no longer be in the half-lying down position but instead sitting upright with one foot tucked the other and her knee up. Her hair was brushed out of her face so that Hotch had been able to tell where her make up been wiped off. He had searched her face for clues but kept coming up short until she finally spoke._

_"Good." One word answers. Goodie. "Great actually. We met at this recluse but quaint restaurant for dinner where he held open doors and pulled out my chair and let me order first. He asked me about my day and when I told him we didn't have to talk about work he dropped the subject because he got it--you know?--and then we talked for a little while and you wouldn't believe how much we had in common. By the time that JJ called to check up and make sure I didn't need any rescuing I was certain that this man was a Godsend."_

_'And if this guy is so goddamn fantastic why is she in my bed instead of his?', was a thought that had crossed Hotch's mind more than once during the conversation._

_Instead Hotch had held on to his insight and said "but" anticipating the fall._

_"But," Prentiss had stressed, not missing the edge of annoyance on Hotch's tone. "The date ended later on so I had decided to take a taxi home and once I was in the backseat of that car thinking about this guy and this wonderful date and how life should always be this blissful--and it should, right? Well that's when the cabbie interrupted my thoughts and asked me, "where you headed?" You know what I answered, Hotch? Can you guess?"  
Hotch had shaken his head "no" and Prentiss had chuckled under her breath._

_"Here, Hotch. I told him I was coming here. So on possibly the best date of my life--or at least my year--I end it by wanting to come here. What does that tell you?"_

_Honestly it hadn't tell Hotch much but that hadn't kept random bursts of joy from occurring inside the BAU agent._

_Prentiss had only sighed and chuckled softly, shaking her head gently in a fashion akin to exhaustion but with a smile on her face. "To tell you the truth, neither do I."_

_This was when Hotch smiled back, it wasn't a big smile mind you because he had been testing the waters with her mood but once she had shifted on the bed so that Hotch would have room to lie down she was smiling freely. Hotch had excused himself to get changed and on his way back out of the bedroom he noticed a small pile of black on the reading chair, no doubt the dress and shoes and purse that Prentiss had showed off to her date. Hotch had turned to face the bed again where the other BAU agent half-sat up and smiled a little wider at the sight. Emily Prentiss was donned in an 80's band shirt and plain pajama shorts, her hair had been wavy and not tied up, her make up wiped clean off her face and eyes had been twinkling like she was laughing at a joke that no one had told. He knew that he had liked it better this way, if he was going to be honest with himself, and apparently so did Emily._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Did it shock ya? Oh come on, you know what part I'm talking about and in the_ very_ off chance that you _do not _why don't you check that flashback sequence again? I'm sure I put it in there somewhere ;). Now I would love to hear what you think about my first real introduction of Andrea as well as the Hotch/Jessica interaction. I am aware there was less about the actual team in this chapter but I thought the Hotch/Jessica/Jack side story thingy would even it all out :). Whatever, I'm just going on and on now so please feel free to leave a review! *Runs off to begin the sixth chapter before House airs the new episode in a half an hour* =)

Hugs and Kisses, CSIAly


	6. Chapter 6

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** Jane Lynch is one of those special people who makes me laugh days after I hear the funny comment they made ;D.

**Author's Comment:** *Catches reviews in butterfly net* Check it out! It's a whole whack of reviews, all of which I am grateful for and make me feel awfully guilty for not updating sooner ;D. Seriously, guys, thank you so very much for all of your kindness and feedback, it is greatly appreciated :D. Now in regards to the latest chapter (this one!!) you may notice I tried some news things with character development in the Nolan family and I would really like to read about what you thought of it, so make extra sure to comment on the family dynamic, kay? Besides that I have nothing else to rant about other than my undying love for Glee! (refers to dedication, Sue Sylvester ;D) and the fact that it will be a new episode in less than ten minutes :O. So I got to go but I hope you enjoy this chapter!! ---

* * *

**Chapter Six. Non-Nostalgia**

_"People who get __nostalgic_ about childhood were obviously never children."  


_~Bill Watterson._

_

* * *

_

_7:58AM  
Wednesday March 24th 2010  
The Nolan Household_

There was something very unnerving about waking up from being drugged twice in a two-day span and to be frank it was seriously beginning to piss Emily Prentiss off. For the second time this week Prentiss had awoken in a bed and house that she was not familiar with and a strange lack of memory. She was certain that if she were to check she would find injection marks somewhere on her body, however she opted to shake the bad thoughts out of her head instead and not lose herself to her insanity just yet, she needed to reserve her strength and hope if she was ever going to get out of this house and _family unit._

The scary part was that as desperately as she wanted out of this home she could not ignore how easily she had been able to slip into it.

Never one to be nostalgic over childhood, mostly because hers was a globetrotting expedition full of people who knew her by name, appearance, and family but could never expect the same from her. Emily had been used to a family of shuttling around from country to country, numerous languages were household for her because of the constant moving but she was most familiar with the subtle, silent communication of politics where things meant their opposites and lip service was most peoples' mother tongue.

If ever asked about the happiest moments of her childhood Prentiss could prattle off any number of special occasions but would be hard pressed to recognize one that most "normal" children would recall: eating raw cookie dough, joining a team at the local Y, running through the sprinkler in the Spring sunshine, going days without her parents at sleep away camp. Now these were not things that Emily had much first hand knowledge about, not that she was upset about that, it just she felt like she had missed out on something more special, something that people took for granted everyday, is all.

_Did these children ever have those moments?_

The thought crossed her mind, after all how could it not? It suddenly didn't matter as much that she had been drugged, kidnapped, and shackled, not when the realization that these children had seen it all before came to mind. God, she shouldn't care as much as she did, but she in her line of duty it was difficult to turn the feelings off. Especially when these two children were so easy to love. Andrea, so sweet and innocent, probably had no clue what her father was capable of and was that a positive or negative? And Phoenix. Phoenix who Prentiss was beginning to understand on a deeper level, Phoenix who Prentiss realized was so much more than a clever eleven-year-old but an intelligent, interesting, polite boy.

Then there was Renée. Now Emily had some mixed feelings about the woman but she seemed like a kind and affectionate aunt, as well as a loyal and respectful woman. Hell, loyal didn't seem to do Renée justice, she was not just loyal she was…she was…_submissive._ That was it, oh most definitely. This woman not only supported what Zephyr did but she was willing to go along with whatever he asked of her and Prentiss wasn't sure why. Stockholm Syndrome? Romance? Threats? Attempts? Any number of reasons could explain why Renée allowed Zephyr to do the things he did, especially in a home with two children, but it didn't count for much if Renée didn't recognize his control over her as a problem.

_Maybe there isn't a reason but a person. Maybe Zephyr, himself, is her reason for staying._

He was a charming man, no doubt about it. Oh and he was so very handsome too. Standing at more than six feet with a broad chest and fantastic frame, Zephyr could smile with his movie star smile and few cute dimples. The man had a full head of caramel coloured hair and eyes that twinkled like nothing you've ever seen before. Even Prentiss couldn't deny his classic good looks and velvety voice; he must have been a mirage of a Greek God, the BAU agent was certain. So was that why Renée couldn't leave, because Zephyr was too damn convincing, charismatic, and confident? Was she in debt to him? Was she in love with him? Prentiss didn't think it really mattered since it would most likely end badly for Renée, as it did with too many women Prentiss had seen before.

_Look at you, you little behavioral analyst, you._ Prentiss' mind teased.

_You can read this family like an open book, can't you? Then why are you still here? You're wondering why in the world Renée would stick around when you can't even grow the stones to do anything to get yourself out._

But if she tried to run it would be at the risk of her life.

_But it wouldn't be the first time, now would it?_

However that didn't mean that Prentiss wanted it to be her last, either.

_Just admit that you're exactly like the rest of this family; scared, submissive, victims._

When Prentiss felt the vomit work it's way up her throat she managed to swallow it, too ashamed to show physical fear, too ashamed to even cry out for help because it was her fault she even needed it in the first place.

* * *

_8:06AM  
Wednesday March 24th 2010  
BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

When Spencer Reid came into work he was in a decent mood, all things considering. He had entered the building after about a total of six hours of sleep and restless ones at that since he kept awakening from visions of blood and Prentiss' screaming and Benjamin Cyrus. The night had been one full of tossing and turning so he was kind of grateful that he was venturing back into the actual case because it meant that at least he could do something to help his friend this time instead of feeling utterly useless at home. So when he entered the bullpen in search of something caffeinated he was surprised to see Hotch mixing himself a coffee.

"Hey, Hotch." The younger man introduced as he approached the coffee maker and friend. "Are you alright? You look really worn out."

Nodding, Hotch took a swig from his mug and spoke afterwards. "I'm fine, Reid, just a little tired."

Reid squashed the urge to correct Hotch by informing him he looked much worse than "a little tired" but it _was _just after eight in the morning and the young genius was not without mercy.

"Look Hotch," Reid began, him speaking seeming to keep Hotch from his attempt at heading back to his desk. "Don't go crazy," the genius tried the phrase on his tongue awkwardly, "over this case; we're all worried about her."

Something crossed the older agent's face, an expression that Reid had seen before but one that was never seen during happy moments. He wanted desperately to change that, he wanted this to be the moment where Hotch—cool, calm, collect Hotch—would reassure him, as well as the team, that Prentiss was not only going to be found but perhaps found and better than ever. It was irrational, of course, for the younger agent to think this way (to hope this way) but that didn't make Reid want it any less, in fact; maybe it made him want it more.

"We're going to find her, I promise." The dark haired, dark eyed, more than "just a little tired" man told Reid firmly. In fact Hotch looked so serious that Reid was inclined to believe him, despite all the "what ifs" and "buts" weighing him down. Reid smiled ruthlessly and picked up the file that Hotch had put down while pouring his coffee.

"Want a fresh pair of eyes?" Reid asked with a hopeful expression one that looked relieved and rejoiced the second he saw Hotch crack the smallest smile and say, "thank you, Reid."

They retreated the conference room, file and coffees in hand, comforted in the fact that their was someone else in the same boat feeling just as lost, confused, hurt, and upset about how someone life—their friend's life—could be turned upside down on a whim and how they were left almost helpless.

* * *

_8:13AM  
Wednesday, March 24th 2010  
The Nolan Household_

Andrea Nolan was not stupid, not by a long shot. She may not be able to pronounce all her words quite right and her mouth and tongue sometimes fumbled the words so that they came out slowly and with minimal grace but she was not stupid. Sometimes she stumbled when she walked, one could instantly tell that she was not the most coordinated child, but she could skip, summersault, cartwheel, and pirouette like no one's business. So she was six years old? So what? That didn't make her any less intelligent than a seven year old, or her brother, or that _particularly_ dense teenager who accidentally singed his brother's eyebrows last summer.

So why did everyone insist on treating her as if she were a baby when she _clearly _wasn't one?

"I can do it myself!" Andrea whined as her aunt zipped up her jacket and smoothed the wrinkles out of her leggings.

Renée furrowed her brow and bit her bottom lip; "if you just hold still, Cheri, you won't get your hair caught in your zipper again."

Prepared with her commonly used comeback of "once!" Andrea was saved the breath when someone, an annoyingly impatient someone, hollered from the other room; "we're going to be late!"

It was Phoenix. Stupid brothers.

"Shut up, Pheo!" The little girl screamed back as her aunt buttoned up her tiny rain jacket.

"Cheri!" Her aunt gasped, wearing a similar expression to the one she had on when Phoenix was sent to the principal's office for "_telling a teacher off_" when he had really only been correcting her improper use of the English language. The expression was a cross between angry and shocked. "Saying shut up isn't nice."

Andrea, being six, did the only thing a six year old could do in such a situation. "But _you_ say it!"

Now before Renée had an opportunity to defend herself another presence made itself known, well _two _presences but only one was speaking right now; Zephyr Nolan.

"Yes, she does say 'shut up'," Zephyr agreed as he held the woman, whom he had brought home yesterday, down the flight of stairs. "But that doesn't mean _you're_ allowed to, Andrea."

Ignoring her father, the youngster trained her eyes on the lady, the one who had introduced herself as "Emily". Together the adult couple came down the staircase with Zephyr carrying the lady because, from what Andrea could tell, the lady had her wrists and ankles bound so she couldn't walk for herself. She wondered why, if the lady was her mother, she had to be forced to stay in their home. Weren't moms _supposed_ to want to stay with their families? Instantly Andrea felt the room shrink around her and the air get really think even though her own breath felt cold and shallow in her throat, like she had just run a million miles. Pictures got blurry and noise sounded like it was entering through a drum: hollow and emphasized.

_"What is this?"_ _He had asked her, sounding calm but kind of scary, especially to a five year old._

_"I dunno." The small child lied, dropping her attention to the floor._

_Suddenly she realized that was the wrong answer once her father's voice escalated. "Don't you dare lie to me, young lady!"_

_"I-I-I'm not lyin'!" Her eyes had darted around to the walls and as she lied an urgent sense of nervousness had rushed through her._

_"The fuck you aren't! What is this?!" Zephyr had roared as he held up a skimpy piece of hemp with small plastic beads roped around it. Blue, pink, yellow, and white continued in an ongoing chain._

_"It's for mommy's day; my teacher made it." Andrea had opted to answer truthfully but not without an edge of fear and sadness on her tone, however it was not the type of sadness where you want to mourn but instead that awful kind of sadness that is fuelled from desperation and being genuinely terrified._

_"Why would she make this?" He had inquired, much calmer than he'd been a moment previous but still held all of that hate in his eyes._

_"Cuz' other kids have_ _a mommy."_

_It seemed as though she had been able to find some audacity deep inside of her, to make such a bold statement in the face of such raw anger. Andrea didn't sound angry though, like she was trying to make a point, she was merely stating a fact, that fact being that although it was normal for Andrea to live every day without a mother it wasn't for most children._

_"And you don't so why would your teacher make you this?" Zephyr's tone had dropped a few decibels but it had still been ice cold and laced with too much hate to know what to do with._

_"She said my mommy would like it, cuz' I di'nt buy. Cuz' we made it." It hadn't exactly been sound logic but for a five year old it seemed reasonable._

_"You think your mother would ever accept this-this-this piece of shit?" Her father had asked her but she had the strong notion that she was not supposed to reply._

_"It's pwetty." Alrighty then, so much for that plan._

_"It's pathetic! Did you honestly think that you're mother would accept this?" His voice had picked up so that he sounded more frustrated and horrifying than before and the young girl hadn't known that was even possible._

_"Uh-uhm-uh..." Andrea tried to form words but just as she has anticipated nothing was coming out well, it all just sounded jumbled up like usual._

_"No she wouldn't, you dumb twit! You should be apologizing, not making arts and crafts."_

_What she was expected to apologize for she hadn't known but it was most likely in her best interest to say whatever her father wanted to hear. She had searched for the words but must had picked up the wrong ones because suddenly completely opposite words had poured right out of her mouth._

_"But I di'nt do anythin'!"_

_Desperately, her eyes had raced across the room, as if she had been trying to re-capture what she had just said, why did she even bother opening her mouth? Nothing could ever please a man hell-bent on hatred._

_Zephyr worked his jaw, slow and tight, his eyes narrowing, and his brow furrowed. Then he opened his mouth and just like her, all sorts of emotions erupted. "Just go to your room!"_

_True to her five-year-old form, Andrea had cried out; "but Daaaaddy!"_

_"Go to your goddamn room!" Zephyr's shouting had echoed through the room, making his presence so much more intense to the young girl. "Just go!"_

_And then the bracelet hit the floor._

_Blue and pink and yellow and white beads had scattered everywhere. Some of the beads had snapped while others had simply rolled away. At the sight of the bracelet being smashed into shards of pastel colours across the hardwood floor Andrea had only wailed in response. Her eyelids had squeezed shut, her jaw had fallen open, and she didn't stop screaming until after her aunt collected her in an embrace that Andrea originally struggled against. After the incident Andrea had not spoken for days, which only seemed to be acknowledged by the girl's brother and aunt, while her father had went the pre-school the next morning to discuss Andrea's immediate removal from the afternoon sessions. That was the last time Andrea could recall ever going to a real school._

"Hurry up, Andrea!" Phoenix told her as he and Renee finished getting their shoes on. "I'm going to be late."

"And we're doing groceries afterwards, Cheri." Renee reminded her niece while taking her hand.

But before the two children and their aunt could reach the front door Zephyr's smooth voice stopped them. "Don't forget to say goodbye to your mother, children."

Then, gently but with a degree of power, Zephyr pushed the lady named "Emily" down to her knees so she was near eye-level with the Andrea and Phoenix.

"Goodbye," Phoenix said first, hugging her with one arm.

"Goodbye," Andrea repeated, kissing her cheek softly.

The lady pressed her lips together and then spoke only two words to them, "be safe."

* * *

_8:37AM_  
_Wednesday 23rd 2010_  
_BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

Upon the arrival of security camera footage Hotch was reconsidering his faith. In this moment, as far as he was concerned, there was not only a higher power but also it was working in his favour. This mighty deity's name? Penelope Garcia, of course. So technically it was one Derek Morgan who had done most of the work by flashing his badge and flirting with the security guard of Prentiss' apartment building, the security guard who possessed actual video footage of the man that Cassandra Galatas had claimed was lurking around the premises. But it had been Garcia who coaxed him out of bed early this morning to go to the apartment and retrieve the tapes. Nonetheless, he was grateful and whether or not Prentiss came back all in one piece each member of the team was getting a Christmas bonus the size of Texas this upcoming December.

"He's tall, blends in with the neighborhood, and handsome." JJ stated. "Probably a smooth talker who should have no trouble with meeting women. Why would need to stalk them?"

Rossi kept his eyes on the security tape whilst he replied to the blonde; "he has a type that he needs to find and single out."

"But something had to separate these women from the crowd. How did he originally find them? Sure their abductions are similar but maybe that's not the clue." Morgan offered to the conversation.

Hotch looked at the plastic container sitting on the table, the one holding all of the security tapes. "We're going to have to find his first appearance on camera and see what Prentiss was doing around the time. Was she in the paper? On television? Working a high profile case or a case with a similar Unsub? Dating someone? Anything that seems even remotely off I want to be told about. JJ, Reid, can you handle that?"

The aforementioned agents nodded accordingly.

"Morgan, Rossi," Hotch continued with a stoic expression imprinted on his face. "I want you to re-interview the victim's families and see if the officers working the Dayley and Kent cases were suspecting this man of any foul play. I want the cops to know that anyone fitting this description needs to be interviewed, at this point I don't want to take any chances."

Now Hotch may have thought that he was a closed book but he was currently presenting hallmark of being beside himself with worry. He was pacing more than necessary, using his hands to accentuate his words probably because he had too much extra energy to burn off, and the team was sure that if he kept up that tight-lipped expression it would stick.

The team knew that they were all just as concerned for their friend's safety as Hotch was but they at least had the comfort of each other where Hotch was bound to his solitude, something he was never good at letting go, especially at the most necessary times. They wanted to help him some way more but they weren't sure how to approach the situation since it was Prentiss that always seemed to be the one with the mood-ring, able to figure out when Hotch was okay to open up or when he should to be left alone. But Emily wasn't here and that was the problem and the BAU agents realized that sometimes the best that they could offer someone dealing with a case was that they put 100% effort into the case. Hotch needed that reassurance right now and they entire team was willing to offer it.

Once they all filed out of the room to begin their assigned task they gave Hotch, as well as each other, either a meaningful expression or a comforting hand. It wasn't much but they knew everyone appreciated it and at the very least _needed_ it.

* * *

_5:37AM  
Sunday February 21st 2010  
The Hotchner Household_

_As much as Aaron Hotchner had always appreciated sharing a bed with his friend slash co-worker, Emily Prentiss, there were still some things that had irked him._

_Exhibit A: hogging the comforter._

_For some reason beyond the SSA's understanding, Prentiss needed to be smothered under a comforter that covered every inch of her body at all times. Not that Hotch had minded all that much since he had never been one to get cold easily, but he had found it marginally awful when Prentiss would roll over in her sleep and take the entire comforter with her. Of course, there was a solution to that; he could have easily inched in closer to her to seek warmth from her smaller frame but he'd always been paranoid about waking up in the morning in a position even more compromising than sharing a bed with a fellow agent._

_Exhibit B: constant thrashing._

_When people think of sleep most minds conjure up images of lullabies, relaxation, and slipping into warm sheets for ten-hour comas. There was no such fantasy when it came to Prentiss. No way, not for the woman who may have been a closet epileptic and expressed it through spastic movements during sleep. And on the rare—once in a blue moon—occasion that Prentiss didn't have the intense compulsion to roll around, kick, and grab at just about everything within arm length she would lay stone still as if she had been knocked out. Hotch had been able to count on one hand how many evenings she had slept completely still._

_Exhibit C: restless sleeping._

_Which was completely different from the insatiable desire to squirm around while sleeping, Hotch had known this by experiencing it first hand. Having been a subject of nightmares and flashbacks himself, the SSA had been able to understand when someone was suffering from night terrors and that particular evening it was about as subtle as a slap to the face. Actually, something like that had been involved when Hotch had reached over to Prentiss' side of the bed to wake her from her nightmare she had grasped his wrist and squeezed the life out of the damn thing, whilst jerking around awkwardly in the bed._

_"No!" She had been crying out. "Stop, oh God, please!"_

_Hotch's hand had broken fear and managed to grip her shoulder to shake her firmly. "Prentiss," he had whispered harshly. "You're having a nightmare. Wake up."_

_She hadn't answered though, only shuddered harder against his touch and made sounds of disapproval and fear. Then her hand had cut through the air, her arm had been flailing wildly._

_Frustrated, Hotch had been able to pin her wrist above her head and roll himself so that he was laying half on top of her. Breathing heavily, the BAU agent glared down at the convulsing woman as if his will were enough to make her stop. Seconds afterward her body became lax, with the exception of the occasional shiver. Apparently it had been enough._

_"Hotch?" Prentiss' voice had turned into a whisper. "What the hell are you doing?"_

_The aforementioned man had rolled off of Prentiss and positioned himself so that he had been half-sitting up._

_"I was about to ask you the same thing."_

_She had been able to pick up on the curiosity and edge he had used in his statement, although neither was pushy or blaming, just inquisitive and factual. Typical Aaron Hotchner. But frankly Prentiss had been grateful for the normality._

_"Nightmare." Prentiss breathed once she had recalled the distorted reality she had been trapped in moments before her welcome awakening._

_Hotch had eyeballed her, checking for any damages, physical or otherwise, before he had said, "now say it like you're not asking a question."_

_Emily had made it a point to scoff at Hotch's reply. He had simply quirked an eyebrow._

_"Fiiine." Prentiss had quickly surrendered._

_Check and mate._

_"Not the first time?"_

_It was then Prentiss' turn to make the comment "now say it like you're not asking a question", since Hotch was not oblivious and had fully understood that it was not her first time with this night terror._

_Being intelligent, Hotch had quit while he was ahead and instead offered to make her tea or something, maybe get another blanket, or if she wanted to—and dear God he hoped she didn't—talk. She had only rolled her eyes, climbed out of the bed, and stalked out of the room—leaving the door wide open—only to have reappeared moments later with something clutched in hand._

_Back in the bed, Prentiss gave Hotch a smirk and moved rapidly and with a high degree of effectiveness. Hotch had only been able to stare in disbelief._

_He had never seen her hair tied up in a bun before._

_"What?" She had asked him, slightly amused by his expression. "I always put my hair up after nightmares. I guess I like my hair out of my face; it makes me feel more organized and focused, nothing distracting me. Plus it feels neater when it's tied up."_

_Honestly? Hotch had thought it looked beautiful, mostly because he could see that humoured little smile playing on her lips._

_"So you're alright?" His question was mostly rhetorical but that hadn't stopped Prentiss from answering anyway._

_"Better than ever." Her smile had been enough to let relief and belief wash through Hotch._

_They had both fallen asleep within minutes; Prentiss curled on her side and Hotch on his front with his head turned in Prentiss' direction.

* * *

_

**Author's Comment:** You know what to do! :D (review ;D) ---


	7. Chapter 7

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For KK, because I need someone to sing Glee to me and understand why Criminal Minds is so goddamn, BAMF ;D.

**Date of Completion:** Monday May 3rd 2010

**Author's Comment:** So re-reading the previous chapters I realized I have made multiple errors and not just in the grammatical sense. If you re-read chapter three it states that there are three victims prior to to Emily Prentiss' abduction and I only go on to say that there are two; Alana Dayley and Jamie Kent. I feel really silly just noticing this now so I am going to write off the third victim right now! (:D) So as far as you guys know the three female victims are Alana, Jamie, and Emily. Alrighty? Fantastic! Continue on my pretties ;D.

* * *

**Chapter Seven. Maternal Love**

_"Children and mothers never truly part, bound in the beating of each other's heart."_

_~Charlotte Gray__  
_

_

* * *

_

_11:20AM  
Wednesday March 24th 2010  
The Nolan Household_

Zephyr had yet to leave Prentiss' side and Renee and the children had left more than two hours ago. At first Prentiss had been absolutely terrified by the prospect of being alone with this man for more than five consecutive minutes but he had proven himself to not be as violent as the BAU agent had originally anticipated. Since they already ate their breakfasts Zephyr thought it would be a good idea to get his "wife" re-acquainted with the premises. This was the first thing that Emily had really readily agreed to.

"I know you probably don't remember much since you left but you loved this house, honey." Zephyr informed Emily as he led her through the home, allowing her to absorb all of the warm colours and spacious rooms, letting the impression that this place housed a _normal_ family sink in.

Once they reached a hallway with what had to be a million photographs Prentiss decided to play along.

"How much have I missed?" She asks, taking in the moments that the camera had captured. It was a picture taken of a young boy wearing overalls holding an infant girl in a pretty pink dress in his lap. The picture is of Phoenix and Andrea.

"He looks just like you, doesn't he?" Zephyr questions softly, rhetorically.

Prentiss inspects the boy in question and notices some generic similarities; hair colour, eye colour, skin tone, and maybe an alike smile. She nods but it isn't honest.

Zephyr takes his time showing and telling Prentiss the stories behind the photographs of goofy smiles and unfamiliar backgrounds and faces she'd never seen before. In each of his stories, happy or not so much, it felt almost as though Emily was actually living the moment. She watched as the man's face lit up or grimaced or paused to fish through his memories and a part of her wanted to believe that these had been her moments because--from what she could tell--this family how so many fond moments before Temperance had passed away. Then they stumbled upon the pretty image of a new born swaddled in a pink blanket, in the corner grainy orange-red numbers read 06 08 '04. Likely Andrea's birthday.

"Andrea?" Emily questions softly, itching to touch her thumb to the picture. Carefully, Zephyr took the frame off of the wall, turned it over as to remove the photograph from the back, and then he placed the empty frame back on the wall. For a moment the adults just stared at it in Zephyr's hands until tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"You don't deserve her." The handsome man informs Prentiss, who is now very confused. "No one deserves that _mistake_ of a child."

Now that certainly didn't seem like the fatherly figure Prentiss had seen Zephyr as.

"It should have been her, Temperance." Zephyr told her finally and with complete seriousness.

Confused and worried and horribly interested, Emily begged for information with her eyes and was answered in return.

"Who the doctors took away," he said as he stroked her cheek. "I wish that Andrea hadn't made you leave."

"She didn't make me leave." Emily argued, slipping into the alter ego of Temperance Nolan.

Softly, Zephyr laughed. "Of course she did, Tempe. She almost _killed_ you."

* * *

_12:01PM_  
_Wednesday March 24th 2010_  
_The Dayley Residence_

Diana Dayley-Langlois was at least five foot two, had lots of blonde curls, and bright blue eyes that lit up her entire porcelain face. Dressed in a simple black skirt with a matching red button down shirt, accessorized with a string of onyx pearls was how Morgan and Rossi had found Diana when she answered the door with a ladle in one hand and her hair in a messy up do. She asked them to keep quiet because Colin had just managed to lapse back into sleep. When they flashed their badges and told her that their presence was about Alana Dayley, she introduced herself and quickly ushered them inside with her ladle.

"Axel talks about her a lot," Diana informed the two BAU agents whom she had encouraged to sit down on the couch in the sitting room. "Did anyone find something related to her case?"

Morgan read the concern and interest all over Diana's face and proceeded from there. "We're not certain yet, Mrs Dayley, but we have reason to believe that a new case we're working on is connected to Alana's abduction."

The woman licked her lips and played with her hands in her lap, visibly nervous. "There's another case? Another woman?"

Solemnly, the two men nodded.

"Her name is Emily Prentiss and she is an agent with the Behavioural Analyst Unit," Rossi informed the petite blonde. "She was taken yesterday in the early morning while she was sleeping and we believe that the person who abducted her also took Alana."

When they showed Diana the picture of Prentiss, the woman looked like she was going to be sick, violently sick.

"They look so alike." She whispered. "Did she have a family as well?"

Well that was a loaded question. What were they supposed to say to that? Yes, Emily had a mother and a father while the team was certainly a family to Emily, but she had no husband or biological child. The man who had taken her had only done so when she was participating in the illusion of a happy family with Hotch and Jack.

"Yes." Rossi jumped in after a momentary pause. "A young boy named Jack."

Somehow Morgan managed to keep his jaw from hitting the floor when he heard this blatant lie.

Rossi could see his friend's reaction in the corner of his eye but acted as if he hadn't by continuing with, "and he doesn't know yet."

"Who doesn't know what yet?" A new voice infiltrated the conversation followed by the rhythmic beat of feet coming down the stairs. They belonged to that of a pre-pubescent young man.

"Diana?" The young man asked, looking towards the woman for answers. "Who are these guys?"

Hearing this question, Diana scooted to one side of the loveseat she was currently occupying as to allow space for the boy to sit. He did but without taking his eyes off of Morgan and Rossi.

"Colin, honey, these men are SSA's David Rossi and Derek Morgan." She introduced with a graceful flourish of the hand. "They're here on important business about—"

"Mom." Colin finished the sentence and noticing the adults expressions, the brunette boy commented that he had his fair share of conversation with police officers when his mother had gone missing and never returned home.

Morgan tucked the picture of Prentiss back into his inside breast pocket and asked Colin how much he remembered about his mother's abduction and as it turned out that was quite a bit.

"It was a Tuesday that she went missing; Tuesday the 2nd." Colin recalled. "She was going out for an afternoon jog before dinner which meant that we were having take out since my dad can't cook at _all_. I remember her being super late and Dad freaking out, like getting really paranoid so he called his friend Rich, who's a police officer. The next few days there was just so much going on; there were people I didn't know asking me and my dad questions and no one knew where my mother was, I didn't go to school for the rest of the week."

For a moment Colin paused and bit his lip. "That was the last time I ever saw her."

"We're very sorry for your loss, Colin." Rossi said with a genuinely comforting tone. "And we understand that what happened was many years ago so you may not remember as much as you did but we're going to ask if you remember anyone—anyone at all—that hung around your mother or the neighbourhood a lot."

There was a pause as Colin tried urgently to recall every small detail he could before his mother's abduction. He had spent so much time doing this—remembering, analyzing, and obsessing—that he was certain he would be able to pull up _some_ archived facts. At first, when nothing came to mind, Colin wanted to be frustrated but instead he put even _more _energy and eventually he was rewarded.

"He had to live in the neighbourhood. Like not on this street or anything but around here if he was running all the time, right?"

Diana, Morgan, and Rossi all looked up at the boy in encouragement so he would continue.

"He used to run all the time in the evening. Like every day, even when it started to rain. Then I stopped seeing him but that was before my Mom disappeared. I'm sorry, but that's all I remember."

Between Rossi and Morgan neither needed to be a trained profiler to know that this boy wanted nothing more than to remember every little detail. It was heart-breaking how badly he wanted it.

"Do you remember anything else about him? His name or what he looked like? Do you know if he had a family or what he did for a living? Anything you can remember is appreciated, Colin." Morgan encouraged.

Again, Colin took a few minutes to think through the months leading up to the disappearance of his mother. There were hot, bright flashes of her smile, of her scent, of her doing things around the house and if it weren't so girly the eleven year old might have let a tear or two slip. But he couldn't and wouldn't, because he wasn't a little boy any more and he knew fully well that crying wasn't going to do him any good.

"He was tall and uhm, he was fit too." Colin sighed and scrubbed his face with the heel of his palm. Diana, his stepmother, rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"Once he was running and my Mom let him come him for a drink or something. He was really cool and nice but he had a weird name like he said he was fast runner coz' his name meant wind or something."

Confused, the adults looked among each other until Colin's whole face lit up. "Z!"

More confusion.

"His name started with a Z. I know it did, you gotta believe me." Colin practically begged.

Rossi jotted this down on a pad of paper while Morgan told him that this knew information was very appreciated and helpful. Then Morgan excused himself from the room to make a quick phone call while Rossi asked; "do you remember how long before your mother's disappearance you stopped seeing him?"

Leaning into his stepmother a little, Colin closed his eyes and thought. "It's okay, sweetie, just do your best." Diana murmured kindly.

"She went missing in November and I stopped seeing him after before summer vacation ended."

"That's great, Colin." The Italian-American thanked the young man. "Thank you for helping us."

Nodding along and playing with his pyjama bottoms, Colin tried to think of anything but being sick, mostly because he had been vomiting the past five hours. His step mom had assured him that it was just a twenty-four hour bug but he wasn't certain because with his luck he'd be sick for the rest of the week. He inhaled through his nose and coughed right after. Phlegm. Gross.

"So is all of this about Mom?" The brunette boy asked, feeling slightly light headed.

"Kind of." Rossi admitted. "Two other women went missing after your mom and the how of the crimes are very alike."

Colin nodded and grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the small table between him and Diana and Rossi. He sneezed and it was an unholy mess. Rubbing his nose, Colin stuffed it in the front pouch of his hoodie.

"Are they moms too?" He asked because it made all of the difference.

Sighing, Rossi thought of the pictures of Jamie Kent and Emily Prentiss. "Yes." He lied again.

"Well that sucks." The pre-pubescent stated as he blew his nose again. "Can you save them?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Rossi could see Morgan re-entering the sitting room with his cell tucked away and a look on his face that said they owed Garcia big time.

"We're pulling out all the stops."

The brown eyed, brown haired boy smiled a little and spoke with a gentle voice, akin to nostalgic. "Well when you find them tell them to hug their sons and never let go."

Diana squeezed Colin's hand and the boy squeezed back. That was all the promise the BAU agents needed.

* * *

_12:49PM  
__Wednesday 24th 2010  
BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

Spencer Reid was considering the many forms of suicide.

There was shooting himself, of course, however that was too messy. Hanging was quick but where was he going to get the rope? He could jump out a window but he'd likely lose his nerve or just seriously injure himself, plus it could have that messy effect. Maybe he could find something poisonous to consume but that seemed unlikely in the BAU building. Briefly he pondered rearranging Garcia's work place and although that would result in death he had no desire to make it a long and painful death. He was doing that at the moment.

"How many high profile cases and dangerous cases could Emily have been involved in during the past six to eight weeks?" The genius asked as he mulled over what had to be the _millionth_ file Emily had been working on.

Next to him JJ was tapping keys on a laptop, pulling up old cases and newspaper clippings and whatever else had Emily Prentiss' name related to it. She sighed and pushed some blonde hair behind her ear.

"Too many." She replied as she typed something else into a search engine. Reid glanced at the pile of files he had _yet_ to look through and could only agree with her.

Together they dove back into their work and for a good, solid, ten minutes there was only the sound of flipping papers and tap-tap-tapping fingers on the keyboard. Until, that is, something or rather _someone_ emitted the most girlish giggle that Spencer Reid had ever heard. That giggling, however, soon developed into a full-fledged laugh and before the young genius could ask, JJ was lit up like a Christmas tree.

"What is it, JJ?" Reid questioned, a cross between curious and concerned. "What's so funny?"

Her laughter died down a little but it was still there, a few chuckles in interrupting her explanation. "N-n-nothing, Spence." She finally replied.

"No, really." The geeky young man pressed. "I want to know."

Shaking her head, JJ moved the screen to show Reid some silly little cartoon with a clever punchline attached. Reid, being Reid, didn't initially understand what had been so hilarious.

"I hit a link or something and this showed up and, oh I don't know, I just thought it was really funny." The blonde stated with a sigh. "Stupid, huh?"

Reid shook his head and re-read the comic, just to see if he had missed anything. Nope. It was just as plain as it was the first time he read it. "It's not stupid, JJ." He responded because it was true, it was quite clever in fact, just not out right funny. "Am I not understanding something?"

Again the blonde shook her head "no". This left Reid even more confused.

"You see, Spence," JJ began, her giggle fit over. "This has been the first time I've laughed since Emily went missing and I guess this just reminded me of her."

_Ah. _Thought the genius. _I understand now._

Regarding his friend with a kind gaze, Reid spoke with a certainty when he said; "she would have laughed too."

JJ smiled sadly. "I love her laugh." She confessed.

"Me too." Reid sighed. "And we'll get to hear it again, just as soon as we finish all of this annoying paperwork."

With her hand on Reid, the SSA squeezed the other's knee and thanked him with a smile.

___

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_

_1:14PM  
__Wednesday 24th 2010  
__The Kent Residence_

Thankfully for Derek Morgan and David Rossi, Isaac Kent was at school when they dropped by. Apparently Victor and Isaac Kent lived in a small complex in the 'burbs which suited the widower and his eight and half year old just fine. By a happy coincidence, Victor Kent worked from home on his computer so when Morgan and Rossi showed up on his doorstep there was someone to answer the door.

Victor led the agents into his living room that was approximately the size of a closet. There was loose papers, thick folders, glossy magazines, and sports equipment all over the floor and furniture. One wouldn't have been tell that Victor Kent once was an obsessive cleaner.

"I'm sorry about the mess, guys." Victor said as he moved a pile of folders on to a desk. "I don't know how I let this place turn into such a pigsty. It's an all guys house, you know."

Derek and David simply sat down and offered condolences that Victor shrugged off. "You don't have to be sorry," he told the BAU agents. "What happened to Jamie was worse than horrible but she wouldn't want me living in the past, Isaac either."

Following Victor's lead, Morgan and Rossi didn't beat around the bush.

"We've recently taken on a case similar to Jamie's with a similar victimology and MO," Rossi began. "And we think the person who was responsible for Jamie's disappearance is also responsible for this woman's."

With an outstretched hand, Morgan revealed the picture of Emily. "She's beautiful." Victor had said. "She have a family looking for her?"

Well wasn't that the question of the day?

"Yes." Morgan repeated his friend's reply. "And we want to bring her home."

Victor nodded slowly and stood up, located his wallet, and fished inside of it. It was his turn to show a picture. "This is the most recent picture I have of Jamie and I together."

In the photograph there was Victor and Jamie kissing with the background of a party, no doubt.

"And it's almost been three years since I've seen or heard or touched her." Victor admitted with sorrow in his voice. "Almost three years and the worst part is I'm actually beginning to _move on_. Isaac is beginning to as well."

"That's fantastic, Mr Kent." Rossi assured the man. "That's progress. I'm sure that Jamie would be very proud of you and your son."

Tucking the picture back in it's place, Victor answered all of the agents questions and in turn asked some of his own. He wished them all the best with their latest case and made Morgan and Rossi promise to tell whoever that woman had to love her long and hard, before they left. Of course they knew that they would love and appreciate Emily for everything she did as team member, friend, and part of the family but once they had her back with them they were going to let her know more often. There was a reason people said "you don't know what you got till it's gone" and it never felt more true than when one of their own was in peril.

* * *

_2:23PM  
__Wednesday 24th 2010  
BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

"Now you have to stop all that pacing, Boss Man." Penelope Garcia told her superior frankly. "I'm flash-backing to all those caged animals in the zoo and it isn't a very pretty picture. Plus I don't think that Section Chief Erin Strauss is going to be impressed if she has to pay to repair a massive hole in the floor."

Hotch spared Garcia a glance and put an abrupt stop to his constant movement. "How's the case coming along?"

"Going on the interviews that Rossi and Morgan collected this afternoon, pretty good. I've been looking through the system for anything matching your Unsub and have turned up a few hits, narrowed those down, and we just may be getting somewhere." The technical analyst informed him, sounding almost upbeat, you know for someone talking about the chances of finding their kidnapped friend and colleague.

Garcia handed over a file that contained a profile of the Unsub as well as histories on all the victims and possible suspects that were already in the system. Hotch thanked her for it.

"And I looked up that Z name, Colin Dayley gave Morgan and Rossi," she informed her boss while playing with a strand of her hair. Curious, Hotch raised an eyebrow and Garcia smirked a little.

"Did you know that Zephyr means_ west wind _because of the Greek God named Zephyrus?"

Smiling a little in return, Hotch informed her that, _no_, he hadn't known that.

"Now there's no Zephyr in the system that fits your Unsub, like at all, but I remembered what you guys thought about the Unsub being abandoned as a child so I checked Children's Services from way back when and pulled up something that you might find interesting." She teased with a happy smile plastered across her face.

After explaining her findings, Garcia watched as Aaron Hotchner went from intrigued to surprised to grateful in the time span of of seventy two seconds.

"You are amazing, Penelope Garcia." Hotch complimented his favourite technical analyst.

"Oh I know, Boss Man, but it's always lovely to hear." Garcia teased and actually received one of those rare Hotchner smiles (dimples and all) in return before he began rapidly dialing phone numbers and sending text messages. Ah yes, life was improving with every passing second.

_____

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_

_1:17AM_  
_Thursday February 18th 2010_  
_The Hotchner Household_

_Although it had been his father that he was trying to wake, Jack had managed to rouse his Aunt Em'ly from her light sleep._

_"Jack?" She had asked, sitting up in the bed, all rumpled hair and clothing. "Is that you, sweetie?"_

_In that instance Jack Hotchner had wished he could disappear. Silently, he had pretended that she hadn't said anything or even woke up._

_"Jack?" Emily had asked again, sounding more cautious and even concerned. "Are you there?"_

_The young boy sighed and knew he had to make his presence known so he had headed to Emily's side of the bed and waved "hello" to her through the darkness. Her hand had patted the small space beside her on the mattress and promptly the boy occupied it._

_"What's the matter, buddy?" The woman had asked whilst smoothing out the wrinkles in Jack's pyjamas._

_He had been hesitant to answer at first but the expression of patience and curiosity written all over his "aunt Em'ly's" face managed to encourage him to tell the truth._

_"I had an acc'dent," his reply had been gentle and even in the darkness Emily had been able to read the shame on Jack's face as clear as day._

_She had been gentle when she inquired about what kind of accident had occurred. As predicted, it was one fuelled by over-active imaginations and severe urine build-up. Jack, having been thoroughly embarrassed, had asked Emily not to tell his father even though Jack figured that his Dad wouldn't have been upset. There was just a humiliating element to what had happened, was all._

_"Okay, Jackie." Prentiss said as she had let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. "I'll tell ya what we're gonna do."_

_Jack, being the little angel that he was, listened attentively._

_"We're gonna find some fresh sheets, a new comforter, and make sure you use the proper facilities before going to bed. Alright, kiddo?"_

_Uncertain about the reference to "proper facilities", Jack had a curious expression on his face but once he had noticed Prentiss actually getting up and out of the bed, he realized that he ought to move too._

_Within ten minutes Jack's bed had been stripped down, the young boy had emptied whatever was left of him in the toilet, and Emily had fixed them both a super later (or rather very early) snack of orange wedges dipped in chocolate pudding cups. Together they had finished their snacks in Jack's bedroom._

_"Thank-you, Aunt Em'ly." The adorable--not to mention sleepy--little boy said from beneath his fresh blankets._

_Prentiss had finished her chocolate dipped orange slice with a smile. "No problem, sweetie."_

_"Will you tell Daddy?"_

_Emily had only sighed and ruffled the boy's hair._

_"Not likely, kiddo." And with a kiss on his forehead she wished him a goodnight._

_It was his voice that had stopped the BAU agent on her way out of the room._

_"I love you, Aunt Em'ly."_

_At the time she could have fainted, however she managed to stay stable enough to turn and face the sweet boy._

_"Love you too, sweetheart."_

_

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_

**Author's Note:** *Claps hands together* _All done! :D_ ... well for now anyway ;D.

So whaddya' people think? Of course I'm craving your feedback (it nourishes meh soul, I swear it does D:).

Naturally I had my concerns introducing the families of previous victims, mostly because I am always nervous when it involves bringing in a new character or element to a story :P. Tell me what you thought of them even though it is supremely unlikely that I will bring them back (like ever) it is still nice to know if I gave a proper back story that not only made sense but was interesting.

See what a nerd I am? xD

_Nonetheless! _

I wanted a Spencer/JJ moment since forever so I hope that I did it justice as well as the Garcia/Hotch moment before the flashback sequence. Now I _was_ going to have a flirty phone call between Morgan and Garcia (thus Morgan leaving the room during the Colin scene) but somehow it didn't work out in my mind so my apologies :P.

_Besides that..._

The flashback sequence had a surprising lack of Hotch :O. Yes, I know, shocker! However I thought that it worked out with the whole Prentiss/Jack dimension of cuteness ;D.

_And that's our show for tonight, folks. Don't drink and drive! :D_

* * *

_Coming up in chapter 8..._

"Damn it, Temp," Zephyr grunted. "What the _fuck_ are you _doing?_"

"Ugh!" She jerked her body awkwardly. "Don't touch me!"

The shirt tore open, only one or two buttons properly undone, exposing Prentiss to Zephyr. Next he attempted her pants and although she had seemingly lost her voice she had managed to hold on to her bravery. Her movements were clumsy and nowhere near as precise as they should have been but Goddamnit she was _finally _doing _something._


	8. Chapter 8

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For my mother, because you're stuck around :D. Lots of love, Aly.

**Date of Completion:** Sunday May 9th 2010

**Author's Comment:** Alrighty, so I understand that this should not have taken so _goddamn_ long to update but, unfortunately, it did. However, my lovely readers and reviewers, we do have a new installment that will hopefully develop a nice segue into the upcoming events :D. Now for those of you have read the mini-preview in the previous chapter I hope that it lives up to your expectations and if you _really_ like it please tell me to see if I should make another similar scene in any future chapters, okay? Fabulous! Well that was my mini-rant de jour so please continue on to the _actual_ chapter and, as always, enjoy :D.

* * *

**Chapter Eight. Playing House**

_"This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears he is a protector."_

_--Plato_

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_6:38PM  
Wednesday March 24th 2010  
The Nolan Household_

After dinner was finished the children helped their aunt clear the table and wash, dry, and the dishes while Zephyr carried Emily upstairs to the bedroom. At first she was confused as to what the man was doing but once she felt him unbuttoning the blouse that didn't belong to her she kicked him square in the stomach. Squeezing his eyes shut in pain, Zephyr held his stomach for a few moments while Prentiss attempted to roll and shuffle off of the bed.

Maybe it been the fact that she had been putting up with way too much the past day, or that too many times she had played along with whatever he or Renee wanted but it was rushing through her; the anger, the fear, the shock, the desperation. Everything. And so she took it out with her body. She didn't scream, she couldn't. Her throat was dry and rustic, as if she hadn't used it in years, but her limbs were still in mint-condition. Off of the bed and on the floor, Prentiss groaned as she rolled on to her back and shoved herself up against the bed frame. Her fingers gripped the edge the best they could and the BAU agent gritted her teeth as she pulled herself up so that she was on her own two feet again.

Still chained at the wrists and ankles she attempted to hop towards the bedroom door but it hadn't taken Zephyr very long to recover so he was blocking her way. She attempted backing up but he was quick and wrapped one arm around her waist while using the other to grasp a chunk of her hair and pull. Prentiss gasped and dug her teeth into the creamy spot between his neck and shoulder while he pushed her backwards over the bed. With a _thud_, Prentiss landed on her back again and in a split second her front was covered by the most of Zephyr's larger frame. She didn't want to but she couldn't help but admire all the pretty hues in his eyes. Snapping herself out of it, Emily struggled against the man by doing all that she could do to fight him off which included kneeing, biting, and kicking.

"Damn it, Temp," Zephyr grunted. "What the _fuck _are you _doing?_"

"Ugh!" She jerked her body awkwardly. "Don't touch me!"

The shirt tore open, only one or two buttons properly undone, exposing Prentiss to Zephyr. Next he attempted her pants and although she had seemingly lost her voice she had managed to hold on to her bravery. Her movements were clumsy and nowhere near as precise as they should have been but Goddamnit she was _finally _doing _something_.

A palm slapped her hard and hot across the cheek, so sudden and sharp that she hadn't had time to register the pain before the tears streaked down her cheeks. The button and zipper on her pants were undone with a comfortable ease. Her pants were pulled down to her knees and she could feel herself being hefted off of the mattress. With Prentiss thrown over his shoulder, Zephyr lead the BAU agent towards the bathroom and her feet occasionally knock into his jaw, eyes, and nose.

Once they reached the bathroom, Zephyr placed Prentiss down in the bathtub and wormed her out of her pants completely as well as the bra that was not hers.

"Why are you fighting me, Temp?" Zephyr asked as he combed back Emily's hair. "You know I _love _you."

Emily pent up her rage and gritted out, "you _attacked _me."

Sighing, Zephyr plugged the drain and turned the water on so that it was pleasantly warm. Emily watches as it collects on one side of the tub and then begins to spread closer to her body. First it touched her toes and the contact is almost refreshing but then she remembers that she is still wearing panties. It seems that Zephyr read her mind and as found a thin pair of scissors in a bathroom drawer. The panties are cut with great care not to harm Emily or Zephyr, himself. As the tub filled with water the anxiety Emily was feeling increased accordingly.

"You love baths, Temperance." Zephyr informs Prentiss as he pours blobs of bubble bath into the water.

Working twice as hard as she had during their little fight, Prentiss forces awful images of him doing things to her out of her mind.

"I'll be right downstairs if you need anything, Tempe." He tells her as he swirls his hand around in the water, just dodging Emily's exposed skin.

The man is clearly delusional if he honestly believes she can bathe chained like she is and naturally she voices this opinion and all he does his shake his head and brush back some of her dark hair.

"Enjoy." Zephyr says it like a request and he's already out the door before Prentiss can argue.

Weighing her pros and cons, Emily decides to follow through on this instruction and lies back, hoping that the bubbles, privacy, and warm water will help her drift away.

* * *

_12:13AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
The Hotchner Household_

Lying on his back on the kitchen floor, Hotch stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. He watched as a spider scampered across the corners of the ceilings and listened to the sounds of the house "settling" around him. Right now he could have been tracking down _Zephyr Nolan_ and questioning him. Right now he could be searching for Emily. Right now he could be doing something _constructive. _But _no_, apparently he needed his rest. Sleep could wait, Prentiss' life however, well let's just say that was the top priority right about now.

Hotch's head felt heavy and his chest hurt for some unknown reason and even though he had just ate the remaining amount of Kraft Dinner that was sitting in a Tupperware container in the refrigerator, made a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich, boiled some pasta, and drank the last of the orange juice straight from the carton, he was dying for something to eat.

There was fog on the kitchen windowpane that tempted Hotch to pick up Jack, buckle him in the car, and rush to the nearest 711 to buy a pack of cigarettes despite that fact that he had never experienced the joys of smoking before, let alone to the point where he had an insatiable desire to do so. Maybe he'd just have a nice, relaxing drink. No, he had no longing for a migraine in the morning, besides that he refused to be one of those people who solves their problems with a bottle, especially since he knew—first hand—that it didn't usually work.

Not knowing what to do, Hotch continued staring up at the ceiling, at that damned arachnid.

He wished he had photographs or videos or something to feel like Prentiss was with him still. He had pictures of old friends, of family members, of Haley. Why didn't he taken a fucking photo? Logically he knew that there was evidence of her existence all over his home as well as at the BAU. At anytime he could walk into the living room and find a novel or two by an author he never heard of but Emily could recite; Hotch could open the freezer and find half of a container of Rolo ice cream, which was the kind that she only ate while she was menstruating; he could open the mirror that doubled as a cabinet door in the bathroom and find her toothbrush, hairbrush, and dental floss.

It was strange being on somewhat domestic terms with Prentiss. The BAU agent hadn't really thought about it at first, Prentiss spending the night so often, that is. It seemed to have happened so quickly and with such a degree of comfort that neither felt the need to really bring it up. However it was there, an omnipresence that loomed over them while they slept in the same bed and woke up to each other the following morning; it filled the space between them in the mattress and in their interactions within the house. But they hadn't had a real conversation about it and Hotch wasn't sure as to why.

Maybe it was just easier to let things run their course and maybe it was less awkward not bringing up whether or not Hotch _or_ Prentiss felt comfortable leaving pads in the bathroom or who would use the shower first in the morning, if Prentiss wasn't gone before Hotch even had a chance to discuss it with her. But it wasn't just the fact that Emily Prentiss had somehow managed to slip past the shell and the walls that Aaron Hotchner prided himself on but the fact that he couldn't help but ask himself if he still saw her as Emily in his home or Haley.

He didn't _think_ he was using her as a substitute, not really anyway, after all how could he compare Emily to Haley? They were so different _however _one could find the familiarities. The way they worked with Jack, how kind and loving they were, the fact that they could be honest with him and expect honesty in return, as well how they found their way inside his head. He wanted to say that he was a definite in the belief that he was "using" Prentiss but to be truthful, he wasn't. However, she _had_ offered her comfort and companionship to him so he had accepted it, even if it took some persistence on Prentiss' part.

There was just a small part of him that wished he didn't feel so…so…so _okay_ with Emily at his workplace, in his home, and on his mind. Because feeling so okay with Prentiss becoming such a large part of his life meant that he felt all right with filling Haley's position, even letting her go to an extent, and Hotch just wasn't ready to imagine his life with anyone else in it.

* * *

_9:21AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

Third day and counting which was approximately fifty-three hours of constant worry, panic, mild depression, and escalating frustration.

Thankfully for everyone's sake and sanity, Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau were masters of the art of digging up histories, sealed records, and poking around where most people ought not wander. This talent was particularly appreciated when it meant that they had reason to suspect one Zephyr Nolan.

"You're gonna love us." Garcia teased as she and her friend entered the conference room, files in hand and not at all missing the curious and grateful expressions on their co-workers faces.

JJ scoffed and informed the team that, "Garcia did all the work," as they sat down to brief but Garcia was having none of it.

"Please, chickadee, you were brilliant," the technical analyst pointed out as she handed out various files to members of the team.

They wasted no time getting right down to business.

"Zephyr Milo Nolan was born August 9th 1965 to Levi and Jude Nolan, a young couple—like I'm talking they were probably dealing with morning sickness during Homeroom—that inevitably failed when Levi died as a victim in a drunk driving accident that took place when Zephyr was still a baby." Garcia tells the group of behavioural analysts.

Morgan jumped into action once his "baby girl" hit a pause. "Father died while he was young so he likely adapted to the man-of-the-house position during his childhood. Did his mother remarry?"

Briefly, JJ flicked through a file and found out that Zephyr's mother hadn't remarried but she did become pregnant again, this time with a girl whom she named Renée Delilah Nolan.

"So Zephyr would have taken to a fatherly role with Renée," Rossi asked rhetorically. "Over protective and the dominate in the relationship. Does Zephyr have a history of criminal activity?"

Shaking her head, Garcia fixed her glasses on her nose and when she looks up there is an expression on her face that screams that she has found something akin to valuable.

"No, Zephyr's records are clean as a whistle, so is Renée."

Okay. Dead end.

"So why do you have that look in your eyes like you're about to wow us?" Morgan questions and a small smirk curls Garcia's lips.

"Be patient, my Chocolate God," she coos. "Just because Zephyr and Renée were on the straight and narrow doesn't mean they don't know about the bad side of town."

Eyebrows raised and anticipation building, Garcia fills the agents in; "says here that Renée underwent a pregnancy termination when she was fourteen years old and that her half-brother, Zephyr, was the one who signed all the paperwork."

Reid spoke up first. "So Zephyr's always been Renée's male role model? She could've grown up submissive to her brother but physically capable of fending for herself because she was likely taught to fight off predators."

"Do you think that was why she had the abortion?" JJ asked the team, unintentionally thinking of her position as a mother and of her own friend, Emily. "Someone attacked her?"

It was rhetorical, of course, since the team had no information on the father of Renée's non-existent baby, but when a potential life was lost someone should take notice.

Breaking the silence, Hotch spoke with the smooth tone of voice that reminded everyone of all the work they still had to do.

"I think we're looking for two Unsubs; dominant and submissive, which suits Zephyr and Renée. They're likely living together, especially if Zephyr has children, which fits with the victims' family histories."

The Italian-American agent furrowed his brow at his friend; "Renée lost one baby, maybe she lives for Zephyr's?"

Valid point.

After quickly discussing the concept of a tag-team abduction, the Unsubs' comfort zones, and other such useful information whilst Hotch focused all of his attention on remembering the faded image of a young woman at his front door the morning of Emily Prentiss' abduction.

* * *

_10:57PM  
__Wednesday February 10th 2010  
__Emily Prentiss' Apartment_

_Aaron Hotchner had sat in his car for five minutes before he had actually been able to convince himself to get out of his car and approach the apartment building. He hadn't known where his case of the nerves came from but they had been ever present nonetheless. Quietly, Hotch entered the building and started on the stairs until he had reached Emily Prentiss' floor._

_His fist hit the door gently at first but increased in sound and persistence until it was swung open on its hinges, revealing the not-so pretty face of SSA Emily Prentiss._

"_Prentiss?" Hotch hadn't been able to control the name slipping out like a question, as if this woman just couldn't pass for the woman he had been expecting to answer. _

"_Oh hey, Hotch." Prentiss sniffed her reply whilst her fingers had instinctively rubbed her red cheeks._

"_What brings you here at—" she had looked at her wristwatch for the time—"Eleven o' three at night?"_

'_She's been crying', Hotch told himself. 'I should leave' was another thought that had crossed his mind._

_However—instead of listening to his right mind—the BAU agent had opened his big, fat mouth._

"_What happened?" The dark haired and dark eyed man had asked, while he'd been praying to whatever God was out there that Prentiss would see the concern and sincerity in his question._

_Prentiss had only sniffed twice more and rubbed her partially puffy eyes. "I asked first."_

_Elementary school tactic, sure, but Aaron Hotchner was not a fool; he knew better than to argue._

"_Come in." Her command had been soft and not begrudgingly. Hotch had only been able to accept._

_Shoes were toed off; jacket shed and thrown over the kitchen counter, and feet had shuffled around so that Hotch had been standing one side of the island in the kitchen and Prentiss on the other._

"_Go on." Was the only word that had fallen off Emily's lips but it hadn't sound menacing at all. "Why aren't you at home at least 'pretending' to be getting a good night's rest?"_

_Good question._

"_You seemed a little shaky since we closed the case, I was concerned that—" Hotch hadn't been given the chance to complete his sentence before Prentiss cut him off._

"_That I let it get to me?"_

_Had she always been so good at reading his mind?_

_Hotch had repressed the urge to voice that thought in favour of inquiring about her emotional stability and Prentiss had accused him of not trusting her. But it wasn't about his ability to trust her; well that particular line of questioning hadn't been anyway, it had been about her understanding that it was okay to let down walls; to be human._

"_Oh," she had said, pretending to be actually considering his statement. "Like you do?"_

_Prentiss had a point and Hotch had hated it._

_He had gone on to explain that just because he didn't do something did not mean it was healthy or normal—in fact it was quite often the opposite—but Prentiss had been having none of it. The woman was stubborn, not stupid, and so she had fully understood the point that the man had been trying to get across, Emily had simply chosen to ignore his brilliant mindset in a vain attempt at keeping herself together. Hotch had hated Prentiss for that need for self-preservation and he had gotten sick of being so fucking calm when he knew, for a fact, that she had been just seconds from falling apart._

_So Hotch had dropped his gaze, which effectively broke their eye contact, laid his hands flat on the smooth wood of the island and said the something that he knew would cut her to the core; "you're right, Agent Prentiss, crying shows weakness."_

_And oh, how it had killed him._

_To lie so blatantly to a friend and colleague's face, to watch the shame, shock, and antipathy darken their eyes and weigh their body down. It had made Hotch's stomach churn, his head and heart ache, and entire body rack with an abundance of guilt. There had been nothing that Hotch wanted more than to make it all better for Emily but he'd known that what he did was the best thing to do at the time, even if it had scorned him too._

"_Do you think that it's easy, Hotch?" Prentiss had asked after the astonishment wore off. _

"_You think I can just breeze through the day with a shield of armour on, protecting me from Unsubs and victims and everyone else we leave in the wake so that I don't have to fall apart when I realize we're too late? Or how about when I realize that someone may never have closure, or when I have to tell somebody that they may never see someone they love again, that they will never have the justice they deserve?"_

_She had said it like she was spitting out acid; she had said it like it was his fault even though it wasn't, even though he had been helping._

"_Now I know that you just go about your day, untouched, unbothered, unemotional." There had been an evident growl on the end of the last word but she hadn't waited around to continue. "But fuck it if once and a while I get a little too __involved__ because when you're faced with a world full of people who don't give a __shit__ about one another it's difficult not to try and over-compensate."_

_The tears had been streaming down Emily's face more rapidly and abundantly, stinging her eyes and cheeks, hot and angry. Aaron had stood there and watched; absorbing everything that Emily had to say._

"_And damn it Hotch, I'm so fucking tired of always having to be strong. Sometimes I just want to scream when I'm around you, you know that? It's because you are so unbearably strong and reserved that it tears me up inside. I am __exhausted__ trying to keep up with you Hotch."_

_Some of the anger had disappeared but her frustration and desperation had been obvious. Hotch had itched to touch her, to straighten her, to make it all better for her. But nonetheless he had remained strong and allowed Emily to let go of the restraints._

"_Do you know what I was doing before you showed up, Hotch?"_

_He had shaken his head "no"._

"_I was sitting against the bathtub sobbing." Prentiss had confessed. "Sobbing over a case that we couldn't solve, victims that we couldn't save, families that we couldn't console." _

_Then her body and anger and words had collapsed. She had held onto the island to stay standing and when she finally spoke it had been soft as a breath._

"_I break down, Hotch." Her voice had melted to a whisper. "But never in front of anyone."_

"_Guess we have something in common then." His reply had been spoken as he sidestepped the island and towards Emily. The movement had surprised her._

_Emily had sounded timid, broken, and weak. "Hotch?"_

_There had been arms circled around her waist, a chin pressed to her temple, and warm, firm hands on her back. Silence had taken over and for a moment both BAU agents just stood in the middle of Prentiss' kitchen._

"_You can cry, Emily." Aaron's voice had been such a relief to Emily that she had almost wanted to._

"_I don't want to anymore." Emily had confided whilst turning into the embrace. "Thank you for coming over Hotch."_

_Aaron had been quiet as he held Emily to him, waiting for even breathing. "Any time."_

_It had been a promise._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Notice:** Personal favourite scenes? Easy: Morgan/Garcia during the briefing, Hotch/Emily during the flashback sequence, and Hotch's solo piece mid-chapter. Yours? Leave a comment, question, or concern on your way out! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For Trix, because no child should have to worry about their parent.

**Date of Completion:** Thursday May 20, 2010.

**Author's Comment:** *Has slipped into "Finale Week" induced coma* This has been an intense week for television fans all over Canada (and I'm certain the world ;D). That is why this is late…that I've been writing post-epi one-shots on my comp xD. Continuing on! Go forward and read, my lovelies :D

* * *

**Chapter Nine. **

_Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet._

_~Vietnamese Proverb

* * *

_

_5:24AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
The Nolan Household_

It only takes twenty-one minutes to collect and package an entire lifetime of memorabilia. That includes, but is not limited to: photographs, clothing, books, family heirlooms, childhood mementos, and souvenirs from vacations and whatnot. There are also vast collections of home videos recorded on VHS tapes, CDs, and DVDs. One may also pack posters, artwork, report cards, and bills. It only takes Renee twenty-one minutes to store the best of the family's possessions in big, beige moving boxes in the back of the car while the children are sleeping.

_There are too many_, Renee thinks as she packs up the car. _How am I going to fit them all?_

Next she grabs the necessities: toothbrushes and paste, deodorant, combs and hairbrushes, shampoo and conditioner pads, and shaving cream as well as razors. There is a First Aid kit tucked away in the car as well as a faded roadmap. She is quick to fold all of the linen, arrange the cushions and furniture, to make sure there is no clutter left behind. When Renee if finally finished straightening up the place she makes sure that she hasn't forgotten anything too important, because she really only has room to fit so many things, something that is truly upsetting. Once the car is loaded, she watches her freshly dressed and shaved brother carry his "wife" from the house with a sad look in her eyes. He places the woman in the passenger seat and heads back up to the front porch to say goodbye.

"Thank you, Renee," Zephyr says it so genuinely that Renee cannot help but smile just a _little_. "I'm going the best care of her, I promise. And I know that the kids are safe and sound with you."

She had to bite her lip to stop any potential demands for him to stay from escaping her lips. "You sure about this, Zeph?"

Superstitiously, the young woman crosses her fingers, holds her breath, and doesn't dare blink. Renee was not accustomed to being alone, especially when "alone" meant "without Zephyr" since her brother was her best friend, protector, and guardian angel. Zephyr had always meant so much to Renee that she would do just about anything for him, even if that meant letting him go.

Zephyr smiled a charming smile and embraces his little sister quickly. "I'll see you soon, Ray. Trust me."

And she always did.

Again, the handsome man hugged his sister and let her kiss his temple as means to say "goodbye". Turning on his heel, Zephyr headed back to the car, climbed inside the driver's side and pulled out of the driveway, waving to her. And just like that he was gone and because of the tears in her saddened eyes, Renee couldn't understand why she felt like a weight had been lifted, as if Zephyr and the woman had been weighing her down.

* * *

_7:03AM  
__Thursday March 25th 2010  
__The Hotchner Household_

Aaron Hotchner had never been known for his patience and in his line of work that was understandable. When it came to situations of life and death or giving people justice the quicker was always the best choice. In this case there was a life in jeopardy, one that Aaron just wasn't ready to take chances with. So as soon as Garcia found the residence of their suspected Unsub, Hotch had JJ send out an alert to the local PD and had a few of their officers head out there to check it out. As it turned out the house was inhabited by three people, a woman and two children.

"Where's the father in the picture?" Hotch asks over the phone to an officer. "If this family of the Unsub we're looking for a thirty to forty year old, Caucasian man. He would be the sole provider for the family and the woman would be submissive to him."

"Well the place looks half-empty; are we looking for a runner?" The officer asked as he peered around the walls where holes in the wall marked where picture frames had been hung and kitchen drawers were missing pieces of cutlery sets.

Hotch paced as he spoke, attempting to quash all of the extra energy pulsing through him. "If he ran he told the woman and he would have brought Agent Prentiss. We also believe that either the Unsub or the woman is carrying a gun."

The BAU agent paused, turned on his heel, and began to pace once more. "Do you have a warrant to search the premises?"

The police officer confirmed and explained that his partner was speaking to the woman while another officer did a sweep of the grounds. They had yet to find anything too suspicious but as soon as they did they would be contacting the PD as well as Hotch personally.

Grateful, Hotch thanked the officer and hung up, allowing the other man to get back to his work. In the meantime Hotch figured he had some down time to finish up things around the house, since he had been ready for work since six thirty: was the dishwasher had to be emptied, any recycling and garbage to be taken out, and there was laundry to be done.

Hotch had always appreciated his late wife for everything she had done for their family during the day while Aaron was out profiling the bad guy, inspecting crime scenes, and filling out paperwork. However, Hotch had never understood how truly gruelling it was to keep up with all of the housework that seemed to pile up as well as the on-going responsibilities of being a parent and spouse. As of late Hotch had found himself between jobs, profiler and parent.

If Aaron wasn't flying across the country to study serial homicides then he was driving between work, Jessica's, and his house to pick up and drop off Jack. He managed his priorities at the BAU and worked twice as hard to live up to his son's expectations of having a parent around who cared about him and that could be relied on. Now for an SSA, one would think that you could rely on Hotch, but the job description was very different. Hotch was expected to attend parent/teacher interviews, make dinner at least _twice_ a week so that Jack didn't grow up on take-out, and watch him play Little League _once _a season all while he had to make a living and keep his son and the general public safe.

To be honest, Aaron Hotchner was beginning to question if one could have a "the job" and "the family" without losing your mind. That was one of the reasons why he really enjoyed having Emily over, because she was the gray area. Somehow—beyond Hotch's thought process—Emily was capable of bringing work and family together in his home that he didn't feel like he was missing the other. She would ask him how Jack was on the plane and do a stellar job on the case and then show up on his doorstep with a knowing smile and her Go bag.

Aaron had his doubts about how their dynamic would work in a more domestic setting—because everyone said that you couldn't be successful being that close with people in the job—but for the most part it had been _good_, maybe even _normal_. Whatever that was. Emily was a master of knowing when they shouldn't talk about work and what buttons to press so that he _would_. Her reading material could be a Cosmo magazine, a case file, or Captain Underpants for Jack's bedtime story and she was a natural. And the stupid thing was that Hotch was actually jealous of how easily Emily could transition from agent to friend to coolest aunt ever.

He pondered this as he woke his son for school, made toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast, and sent a text to Jessica about Jack's dental appointment at two fifteen that afternoon.

"Daddy?" Jack asked as he came stumbling down the stairs in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that Hotch forgot to wash.

"Yes, buddy?" Hotch responded as he piled fluffy scrambled eggs on Jack's plate with toast with the crust cut off.

Jack poured his own glass of milk and sat down at the table with his father who was drinking a mug of coffee. "Can I go to space when I'mma 'dult?"

Since when had Jack wanted to be an astronaut? Last week it had been a famous drum soloist.

"Definitely, kiddo." He assured his son as he gulped down some of his coffee. "But you would have to train a lot and not get sick."

The young boy shrugged and shovelled the contents of his plate into his mouth with all the grace of a four and half year old. "But I'd get to fly and there's no school in space."

Laughing, Aaron choked a bit on his coffee and ruffled his son's hair. "So _that's _why you want to go in to outer space?"

With big greeny-blue eyes that he got from his mother, Jack smiled at his father's laughter and finished his milk in one final gulp. "That and there's lots and lots of stars, there are spacesuits that you can go pee in, and I could meet aliens."

Had the world ever seemed so innocent? Hotch doubted it and when he cleared the used dishes off of the table and put them in the washing machine he felt lighter than he had in days.

"Any other reasons, buddy?" Aaron asked as he watched Jack pack up his school bag and wipe his hands on his jeans instead of in the sink. Hotch would have corrected his son but he didn't feel like ruining the moment with being parental just yet.

"Space is close to where the angels live, right?"

Well, geographically Aaron didn't really think that it was all that likely but he wasn't going to burst any bubbles.

"I bet, how come?"

Backpack packed with his spelling book and math workbook, Jack pulled out a painted picture on crinkly paper. It was black with yellow and white on it, depicting stars and a moon and a spaceship. The top left corner was painted a bright yellow and Hotch assumed it was the sun.

"I want to see Mommy again." Jack confessed, touching the yellow corner with his thumb.

"Me too, Jack, me too." Aaron assured, his hand on his son's small shoulder.

"This picture is for Mommy," the boy informed his father whilst placing the picture on the counter top. "And I made one for you."

_Relief, oh thank God. _The SSA thought as his son retrieved another picture—coloured—of his stick figure father, aunt Jessica, and Jack himself standing in front of the Hotchner's disproportioned home that happened to be coloured red despite that the bricks were brown.

"It's fantastic, kiddo. I love it, I'm going to hang it up in my office."

Smiling again, Jack pulled out yet _another_ coloured picture, this time done in messy crayon. "It's for Aunt Em'ly." Is all he said and when Hotch looked at it a massive smile broke over his face.

There, in bold crayon coloured streaks, was a stick-figure Emily Prentiss and Jack Hotchner sitting on logs opposite one another, in front of a red, yellow, and orange campfire roasting marshmallows. Emily had big brown curls and big brown circles for eyes. Jack had blue marbles for eyes and blonde sticks for hair. In the picture the sky was black and the grass was dark green. They were wearing matching light blue jeans and dark blue shirts. On the back of the paper it read in messy, lower and upper case letters: _ME aND mizz emmLee._

Crouching, Hotch hugged his son tightly; "she's gonna love it."

* * *

_7:52AM  
__Thursday March 25th 2010  
__BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

The officer had made another phone call, informing Hotch that they had taken the woman and two children in for questioning and that they had arrested the woman—Renée Nolan—for harbouring a fugitive. Naturally Hotch, being the ex-lawyer that he was, knew that this move was made for three reasons: they didn't have Zephyr, they wanted Renée to crack and _tell _them where he was, and that they were stalling for time.

Right now, however, he was considering sending them a _Thank You_ bouquet and taking them out for a couple rounds of drinks.

The only downside to this was that they still needed to find Zephyr—and apparently Emily since the police hadn't found her already—so the team was left with files and geographic profiles up to the ceilings. So far the team knew that all of the previous victims were from Virginia, some in different cities mind you, but in the general same area. In the histories that Garcia and JJ had found, the team learned that Zephyr and Renée were born in Danville, Virginia and that their mother had passed away years before. They'd also found a copy of his marriage license, which told the agents that Zephyr Milo Nolan and Temperance Jade Nolan (née Spear) were wed September 23rd 1995 in Virginia Beach.

For a moment, Hotch could only stare at the half-smiling image of wavy haired, brunette Temperance Nolan with her big brown eyes and naturally flushed cheeks. She could've been Emily's twin.

"Hey," a voice snapped the SSA back into reality. "Earth to Hotch."

It was Morgan but everyone else was looking at him with the same expression: concern.

"Sorry." Hotch, in no mood to converse, stated plainly. His team, however, had a different idea.

"Where'd you go Hotch?" JJ asked, her voice smooth and gentle, attempting to caress the sharp expression on Hotch's face. He gritted his teeth and then released it because he wasn't going to lose his cool, not when he had made it so far already.

"No where, JJ." It was honest; geographically he was still planted to the conference room floor.

From the mirrored expressions on his teammates' faces he knew that wasn't the answer they wanted but frankly he did not care. Hotch jumped on the pause in their inquiry and gave instructions: JJ and Morgan to interview Renée, Reid and Rossi to watch in as well as keep in touch with Garcia who would be helping Hotch track down Zephyr.

Deciding that they _wanted_ to keep their jobs—and lives—the team dismissed Hotch's obvious distraught mood in favour of following his orders. They divided quickly, quickly packing up files and refilling Starbucks' coffee cups with BAU coffee. Hotch, running on autopilot, slipped his son's artwork on to his desk and refilled his own coffee, desperately seeking a reason to have so much nervous energy coursing through him. Unsuspectingly, Hotch turned on a heel did a fantastic job of hiding the shock that threatened to register all over his face.

Who knew that Derek Morgan was so stealthy?

"Can I help you Agent Morgan?" Aaron asks, all business but Morgan's having none of it.

"About the conference room—" the tall, dark, and handsome SSA begins before he is cut off by Hotch with a harsh, pointed look.

Morgan, who was now adjusted to Hotch's intimidation tactics, shrugged it off, feigning ease.

"You think that you're the only one going crazy missing Emily?" Derek accused, picking up in confidence and releasing some pent up frustration he hadn't realized he even possessed. "Well newsflash, Hotch; we're all stranded in the same boat!"

Maybe it had been the seriousness of Morgan's voice or the reality-check slapping Aaron hard against the face but the aforementioned suddenly seemed to realize just how much it had been affecting him. Aaron had been acting like it was his fault entirely—as if he was the one responsible for keeping Emily safe and sound—and that he was the only one justified in "going crazy" because of her disappearance when the fact of the matter was that Emily Prentiss had touched many lives, made an impact on many people, and had friends beside Aaron worrying over her well being.

However it had been his bedroom that she was taken from and it was Aaron who had answered the door, leaving Emily in bed, alone and vulnerable in her sleep. It hadn't been Morgan, JJ, Garcia, Reid, or Rossi who Emily had been leaning on, it had been Hotch and he had failed her. How could anyone _possibly_ understand that?

"Look, Hotch," Morgan is speaking smoother now as his voice has calmed radically. "Whatever is going on between you and Emily—and I'm not saying that there is—you've got to use that to your advantage, to help get her home as soon as possible."

Aaron really hated that Derek was making sense. He nodded and relaxed his tensed expression.

"I'm just frustrated with everyone only being able to offer '_we'll find her_', '_it'll be okay_', and _'you're doing the best you can'_." Hotch confesses simply, almost brokenly, and Derek is hurting just looking at the raw pain in his friend's eyes.

Reaching out, Derek squeezes Aaron's shoulder and speaks honestly. "At least it's the truth."

Then, wearing a face that Morgan could only associate with the family of a victim, Hotch verbalizes his most elemental thoughts; "But I want her home _now._"

* * *

_2:18PM  
__Saturday January 30th 2010  
__The Hotchner Household_

_The outside world had somehow been able to become __increasingly__ unappealing to the already put off SSA Aaron Hotchner. Originally that had surprised Hotch but nothing could have compared to the shock that the agent had been on the receiving end of once he'd heard the doorbell ring faintly, silenced by the howls and whistles of the bitter, winter wind. He had swung the door open and it revealed to him a trembling, chattering, mess of what he had assumed at the time was a woman. It had been, a woman that is, in fact it hadn't been just any woman. Oh no, in fact it was the one and only SSA Emily Prentiss._

_Frankly and with that telltale Prentiss style, she had asked him if he was just going to watch her defrost or invite her in. After all, she had come bearing gifts._

_There had been some brief interaction between the agents as Emily's shoes slipped off and snow was shaken off of her heavy winter jacket. She had swept past Aaron and in the direction of his kitchen with ease and was efficient in unloading a reusable grocery bag on to the kitchen counter. When Hotch had, once again, attempted to figure out what the Hell his colleague and friend was up to he had received the same "oh, come on" expression tossed back at him._

"_You're sick." Prentiss had stated as she filled a measuring cup with water._

_Very maturely, Aaron had rebutted with the witty retort of; "am not"._

_All she had done was scoff and turn the burner on the convection oven. "You're sick, Hotch." The water was dumped into the pot. "Believe me."_

_It had taken a great amount of Aaron's self-control not to look disbelieving._

"_Really, Emily, I'm fine." He had tried to assure her but it had been to no avail. "I sneezed—what?—twice in the past few days?"_

_Prentiss, as frustrating as she could've been, had cocked an eyebrow. "Twice? I'm sorry, Hotch, but you've changed the __Kleenex box__ in your office twice in the past few days."_

_Okay, so maybe Prentiss had made a pretty good point. Nonetheless! And Aaron had been ready to launch into a full-fledged "discussion" as to why he was correct when Emily's voice had softened and warmed drastically._

"_Look Hotch," Emily had begun and Aaron obliged to her literally. "You work yourself half to death non-stop and I know that a bug isn't going to slow you down but you really need to stop being so darn stubborn and accept that you need to take care of yourself first. Alright?"_

_That last word made it sound as if she had been offering a deal instead of an order. How could he possibly refuse?_

"_Darn, Prentiss?" He had teased, calling her out on her choice of vocabulary._

"_Virgin ears." She had replied, pointing to the silent interloper that had been standing in the threshold._

_How long had Jack been standing there?_

"_Whatcha' makin', Aunt Em'ly?" The little boy's presence and question had shifted the moment from one of almost-heavy concern to something brighter and more light-hearted._

_Emily had reached for him and he followed suit. "Soup, sweetie."_

_Thin eyebrows had knitted together and bright blue-green eyes lit up. "How come?" Jack had asked._

"_Your daddy is sick," Emily had a way of making things sound final without being too know-it-all. "Just with a cold though, so he should be fine soon."_

_And shortly thereafter Aaron had defied every assumption that Emily had of him by telling his son that Jack had better stay away from him—unless he wanted to become ill as well—and proceeded to chase him around the kitchen, dining room, and through the hallways. Shrieks and giggles had bounced around the house as Hotch had made it a game to chase his son and the boy, in turn, made it difficult by being quick to dodge and hide._

_At the time, Emily could have only laughed. The Hotchner men, well more like child and man child, had continued with their race around the main floor while Prentiss prepared grilled cheese sandwiches for the three of them. She hadn't mind, in fact she had encouraged the playfulness by pretending not to know which direction Jack had ran in and when Hotch had been turning a corner. In the end, Hotch had found Jack hiding beneath a coffee table and, upon discovering his son; the BAU agent hefted the boy over his shoulder and carried him to the kitchen to sit him on the counter top._

_Jack had, after coming down from his high, pointed to the prepared food and asked; "Lunch?"_

"_Yup," Prentiss confirmed. "Wanna help me set the table?"_

_A few moments following, the trio had been seated, served, and were chatting comfortably._

"_Are you sleepin' over t'night, Aunt Em'ly?" Jack had asked over the lip of bowl._

'_Good question', Aaron had thought._

_Emily had swallowed the last of her soup before she had responded. "If you're Daddy lets me."_

_Jack had naturally turned to his father for an answer and was answered with a nod and small smile._

"_Yay!" The young boy had cheered, choking on some of his soup. Hotch had pushed a napkin to the side of his son's plate and watched as the other BAU agent at the table picked it up to clean Jack's face. "You can sleep in my room."_

"_I—" Aaron had begun but was interrupted by an on-coming sneeze. "Ha-ah-ah-chooo."_

_There had been mixed reactions of humour, surprise, and annoyance. Emily had handed her ill friend a tissue._

"_I think what your father was going to say," Emily had continued for Aaron. "Was that you and I sharing a room would likely leave me a lil' squished. How about we camp out in the living room instead, kiddo?"_

_This had, as expected, elicited a bubbly response._

_Emily—being the skilled profiler that she was—had sensed her friend's exhaustion in contrast to his son's excitement, and quickly shooed Jack upstairs to "pack". Once the little boy had evacuated the kitchen, Emily had taken to cleaning up leftovers, plates, and cutlery. With tired, watery eyes, Hotch had simply watched her manoeuvre around his home like an expert._

"_So you're camping in the living room tonight?"_

_She hadn't even looked up from what she was doing. "If you don't mind."_

_He really, honestly, hadn't. In fact, he loved the idea. "Not at all, just don't let Jack wear you out."_

_She had laughed and said: "I make no guarantees."_

_Again, Aaron had sneezed painfully loudly and—from the sound of it—messily. She had said, "bless you" and he had sniffed his apology as he wiped his running nose clean._

"_Don't worry about it, Hotch." The raven-haired woman informed the equally dark haired man. "I'll take care of you."

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **

You cannot believe how grateful I am that it is Thursday evening :P. It has been the most intense "Finale Week" with House on Monday, SVU on Tuesday, and Bones tonight. So yes, it was rather intense :/. However next Wednesday is the Criminal Minds and CSI: NY finales!

My point—disregard how off track I can get—is that I didn't finish this chapter on Monday like I had hoped and I feel awful about that :P. I've been working on two other one-shots (House and CSI: NY) so I have been annoyingly preoccupied. Well I hope that this lived up to your expectations and don't forget to comment, criticize, and compliment because I love to read all the ones you send me :D.

_CSIAly xoxo_


	10. Chapter 10

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five, I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For "The Boy". You may as well be the sun; everything ends up revolving around you ;D.

**Date of Completion:** Sunday May 30th 2010.

**Author's Comment:** *Arises from the dead* _I AM ALIVE!_ :O.

That's right, dear readers, I am _not_ dead, I am simply procrastinating :P. You see this is what happens when you let the "Real World" monopolize the time that you could have spent writing fanfiction :/. Nevertheless, I have completed the tenth chapter so none of you have to go _too_ long without an update before I decided to not post for forever again; aren't I just lovely? Not the point! The point is that I am sorry for not finishing the chapter sooner and I am here now, groveling on my knees, for you, my dear readers. I hope you find emotional gratification from this latest installment :D.

* * *

**Chapter Ten. ****Protective Custody**

_"Fear is the father of courage and the mother of safety."_

_-Henry H. Tweedy_

_

* * *

_

_8:12AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Quantico Police Department_

Renée had imagined that, if she were polite and non-resistant, the police officers would kindly allow her to stay with her niece and nephew instead of being holed up in some interrogation room, however she had been sorely mistaken. Unimpressed with the police department, Renée quickly concluded that two could play this frustrating game, and promptly locked her jaw; she hadn't spoken since. The officers, who were a man and a woman, had tried just about every trick in the book to get her to speak but being Renée she was nothing if not stubborn. She held her ground until they finally—blindly—hit her Achilles' heel; Phoenix and Andrea.

In return of Renée's willingness to help "find" Zephyr, the officers had guaranteed her access to her niece and nephew. At first Renée had been reluctant but there would never be a part of her that would be comfortable with leaving children without someone they can rely on, someone that they know will look out for them when they need it the most and Renée had always prided herself on being that person.

"What do you want to know?" She had asked and instantly she could see a twin spark in the man and woman's eyes, something telling her that she had made a wrong turn or misjudgement. In the back of her mind, Renée wondered speaking to the authorities was considered turning on her brother but she knew that she could always censor and edit where necessary, just as long as she got to see her niece and nephew once more before the police took them away forever.

* * *

_8:17AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Quantico Police Department_

One would think that a pre-cinct would be more entertaining than say, a doctor's office, but it really wasn't. Phoenix, no longer being four years old, had only found the half filled in colouring books and out-dated magazines completely tedious. Andrea, however, was entertaining herself by awkwardly braiding her hair, having finished drawing all over a page in one of the dog-eared children's books with every colour of broken crayon that the twenty-four pack had to offer, a twenty four pack that sadly only had seventeen colours.

Briefly, Phoenix wondered if they would have to speak to the police like he knew his aunt was currently. He wasn't sure that he would like sitting in one of those dark, dingy rooms with only two metal chairs and a metal table that was likely smothered in germs, sweat, tears, and probably blood. What would be worse though, Phoenix contemplated, would be having an officer try to buddy up to him in one of those cushy children's rooms that offered beanbag chairs, pastel painted walls, and smelt like Play-Doh and flowery air freshener. Despite how long ago it had been, the eleven year old didn't think he would ever forget sitting on that stupid blue couch that one couldn't help but sink in, across from some kid shrink that was trying to get him to talk about his mother.

Phoenix had always considered his sister fortunate that she never had to go through all that.

"Pheo," a little voice called out to him. "When's Aunt Renée comin' back?"

The older child didn't bother looking away from his random spot on the wall as he answered. "Soon, I guess."

Thankfully his answer had satisfied the young girl who had resumed braiding her hair and playing with the buttons on her blue wool cardigan as well as tracing the thin lines of her snowy white leggings. Sometimes Phoenix would wonder how his sister could be off in her world, totally immune to the reality surrounding her, but he also knew that it had something to do with the way she thought and the way that she articulated her thoughts. At eleven years old, Phoenix didn't know much about his sister in a medical or scientific sense but he knew that she had been born like that and the details of her birth were not all happy ones. If he closed his eyes, held his breath, as well as curled his fingers and toes he could be right back in that same hospital with Andrea in their aunt's arms and his father bent over himself, cradling his head and hiding his tears. For most people birth was a blessed occasion but Andrea's just reminded their father of his dearly beloved's untimely death.

"Pheo," his younger sister called for him again and when he didn't react she continued. "I'm hungry."

_Tough luck._ Phoenix thought to himself since he knew full well that neither of them had any money to go and purchase any food and he wasn't about to do something stupid like going to search for some when, at any time, his aunt could be finished up speaking to the police. He told Andrea, quite politely, to "deal with it" until their aunt was back with some cash or to drive them home.

However, Andrea who was six and stubborn, blatantly ignored Phoenix in favour of wandering over to a desk where a woman was scribbling a signature on paper was. She tugged on the woman's black dress pants and smiled a toothy grin when she was awarded with attention. The woman, weakened by the adorableness of Andrea's few dimples, handed her a granola bar and Rice Krispie treat from her desk drawer. Then, being a kind sole, the woman walked over to a water cooler and filled two flimsy paper cups with cold, clean tasting, H20. Andrea, no doubt, flashed another "aww, how precious" inducing smile before stumbling back towards her brother.

First she offered the cone full of liquid to Phoenix and then the rocky road granola bar. A sudden pang of "I'm an horrible big brother" shot up Phoenix's spine and he decided to play nice, and he even asked his sister if she would draw a picture with him while he would find the comics in the day before yesterday's newspaper which was still lying around for some reason.

For a moment the boy wondered if this was what his father and aunt were like growing up and it was something that Phoenix wanted for Andrea and himself.

* * *

_8:23AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Somewhere, Virginia_

It had been the third time he had to drug her.

Zephyr had forever been a realistic man, especially in relationships. He knew that not always could a partner satisfy the other nor could a person be dedicated at all times. It was difficult to grasp but he knew that sometimes people changed, however little, into something unfamiliar. Temperance, for example, was not one to fight. She was a firm believer in talking things out and cooling down before things escalated. Of course Zephyr appreciated how well his wife could relax him, how skilled she was at keeping him grounded when he felt like he was going crazy. Yet, as of late, she seemed to be uncharacteristically defiant.

Temperance was fighting him, personally as well as physically, and he was beginning to worry for her. Perhaps she felt as if she no longer belonged in their home, with their family? Maybe it was a matter of repressed feelings and boiling resentment? Was she upset that he had kept Andrea, if only because that little girl was evidence of the woman he had thought left? Or was it because he had taken so long finding her and that he had been distracted and deceived along the way by pretty faces he confused with the mother of his children, the friend of his sister, and his own sweetheart? Nonetheless Temperance—his Temperance—had to understand that they were reunited now and that the end justified the means. It may have taken six or so years but finally they were together, happy and just as in love as before.

He hits a bump in a road and her body remained lax.

Her long, dark hair flailed as Zephyr manoeuvred through numerous potholes but her expression stayed stoic, flawless, and beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the space between them and to touch her gorgeous face. Instead he restrained himself with the promise that they could have some tender and conscious moments once she was awake.

"We're almost there, baby." Zephyr assures her as he fiddles with the radio knobs. Expectedly, she did not answer but that didn't faze the driver as he turned up the volume once he settled on a station.

"Hear that, hon?" He asks as soft music filtered through the radio. "That's our song."

_Sometimes words are hard to find_  
_I'm looking for that perfect line_  
_To let you know you're always on my mind_

Bryan Adams' hit song "The Best of Me" is almost intoxicating, dancing in and out of Zephyr's ears before escaping through the opened windows on both the driver and passenger's side of the vehicle. With a smooth voice designed for singing and speaking and seducing, Zephyr follows the lyrics from memory. He clasps Temperance's hand in his own and fancies her asleep. She is absolutely stunning in her green and gold flowery sundress. It has a decent v-neck and is made of some kind of wrinkly material; the dress falls just above the knees and she is wearing Gladiator sandals. Zephyr, being almost completely inept when it came to hairstyling and aesthetics, had applied no make up and simply knotted the woman's hair into a bun the way that Temperance wore it when she was concentrating on something.

"I can't believe we're finally back here; it's been years." Zephyr speaks to the unresponsive woman in the seat beside him. He leaned across the armrests between them and kissed her jaw as the radio piped out their song and the vehicle came to a complete stop in front of a poorly maintained house that came straight from the Victorian era. To anyone else who laid eyes on the building they may wonder what would possess someone to venture into such a death-trap house but then none of them were sentimental.

_Ooh, when you want it - when you need it_  
_You'll always have the best of me_  
_Oh, this is love_  
_You got the best of me_  
_Oh, you got the best of me_

_

* * *

_

_8:29AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_The Nolan Family's Neighbourhood_

Jennifer Jareau had decided to drive with Rossi and Morgan to the Nolan household.

The ride was mostly a quiet one with the exception of the three of them speaking about the case, answering phone calls, and drinking coffee from travel mugs. It was difficult for the blonde agent as well as the dark skinned man to do anything other than obsess about the case, the Unsub, and the victim especially when the case cut so close to the bone. Every case that they worked, every single case, monopolized their time, energy, and attention but this was one of those special cases that no matter how hard they tried they just couldn't stop seeing it when ever they closed their eyes or thinking about it during every aspect of their day.

And the elephant in the room didn't make it any easier.

"I thought Officers Hahn and Sidney already checked the premises." JJ asked from her seat behind Morgan, who was residing in the passenger seat of the vehicle.

The eldest agent answered the blonde through the rear-view mirror. "They did and for the most part they came up empty handed. However we believe the Unsub made a run for it."

There was no need to vocalize what the three of them already knew; Zephyr took Emily with him.

Morgan sighed and checked the GPS; they should be close.

"Is that normal for him though?" Derek asked from behind the lip of his coffee. It was his third one this morning and he still felt like he was in a dream-like state.

From behind him, JJ spoke up with a file opened in her lap. "The previous two victims were never found but we can assume, since he has victims, that they have been disposed of."

Rossi, who was driving, sighed and closed his eyes for just a split second; "he kills them."

As soon as the Italian-American spoke that fact aloud, both JJ and Morgan had to fight the all-consuming compulsion to open every window in the SUV to let the tension out. No one had to say it because it choked the oxygen; Emily could very well be next in line.

Moments passed without anyone saying anything, instead Derek and JJ let Rossi drive through the quiet and secluded neighbourhood while they tried not to think of Emily being taken during her sleep, being forced in unfamiliar quarters, and coerced into God only knows what by a possibly murderous and delusional man. Rossi could remember something that Emily had told him years ago, something about people not knowing that their time was up.

"It's always sad seeing someone's life reduced to the things they had with them when they died. It's just so clear they didn't know how short their time would be."

That begged the question what had happened when she was abducted and, of course, her current situation. Hotch had said that she was taken during the very early morning and that she had been asleep when the Unsub must have found his way in. A part of Rossi felt awful for being so inquisitive about his friends' private lives when one of their lives was at risk but it something that he just couldn't shake. Maybe it was because it was affecting Hotch so much or maybe it was because he wasn't sure why Aaron and Emily hadn't shared something like that with the team.

The whole scenario reminded the SSA of JJ and Will who had wanted to keep their relationship under wraps. In their line of work it was difficult to have a private life, difficult to have a private past, and even a future that everyone else didn't already know about. It was a much sought after prize to have something for yourself but, like most things, it would come out eventually and that usually took place at the worst possible times. However, in Hotch and Prentiss' case, it may have been the secret itself that made it slip out. Had Emily not been sleeping over at Hotch's house—for God only knows how long as well—the Unsub may have stalked Emily but waned interest upon finding out the truth that she was not in a mother or wife position like one could assume when seeing her with Hotch and Jack.

Of course that was an extremely negative way to look at it and Rossi honestly believed that Aaron and Emily had only the best of reasons for being together that evening as well that Hotch was currently being eaten away by misplaced resentment and helplessness. For as long as David Rossi had known the younger SSA, he was well aware of Hotch's ability to blame himself for things that he could not have prevented. David believed that it stemmed from Aaron's control freak personality and need for everything to have a meaning and purpose because, God forbid, something doesn't have meaning than it someone can be put at the disadvantage not knowing what to anticipate.

And Aaron Hotchner, by nature, was not someone who enjoyed surprises.

"Where is Hotch, anyway?" Morgan asked from beside Rossi; had he been thinking aloud?

JJ answered without looking up. "Went with Reid to see Hahn and Sidney; he wanted to sit in on the interview I think."

Now why didn't that surprise Agent Rossi at all?

"I don't know if that's the best decision," was Derek's response as he looked out his window.

With a "how so" expression written across her face, JJ awaited elaboration.

"It's just that Hotch has been really involved in the case, probably more than the rest of us, and maybe having him watch or participate in an interview with the person closest to the Unsub wouldn't be the best idea."

The blonde woman rubbed her temples soothingly before answering her friend and colleague. "Hotch won't crack, Morgan. He's Hotch."

The way that JJ had put it made it sound so fool proof, so factual, and so believable.

"What do you think, Rossi?" The agent tried again, wanting to believe the woman but needing more security than what she could offer.

Not answering Derek immediately, Rossi pulled into the driveway of an older home. He inspected the house through the windshield and it was pretty nice one at that. The question formed in Rossi's mind; had this been where he held her? And it popped just as suddenly. Turning to the man adjacent to him, Rossi gave Morgan an answer.

"The only thing worse than Hotch in action is when he's waiting."

The conversation ended, seatbelts undone, and car doors flung open as the trio climbed out of the SUV and approached the Nolan household.

* * *

_9:12PM  
__Wednesday January 20__th__ 2010  
__BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

_Aaron Hotchner had always been notorious for staying after hours, what with him being a self-proclaimed workaholic. He would stay in his office until the later hours of the evening, the early hours of the morning, and sometimes for more than twenty-four consecutive hours. Usually the burning the midnight oil pattern was in accordance to an overload of paperwork and case files but Hotch had been known, on occasion, to camp overnight when a case got too close for comfort. If it were up to the aforementioned BAU agent, he would renovate his office so that Jack could have a second bedroom. Unfortunately for Aaron—and his type A personality—he had not expected the arrival of one Emily Prentiss._

_It had begun with __that__ look on her face; the expression that Emily wore when she spoke about how the stress of the job would be the death of her, that she had a total of four and a half hours of sleep so everyone better shut the fuck up or be on the receiving end of her Glock, or when a member of the team denied how a case was truly affecting them. Actually the ladder of those example would be the best definition of Emily's current "oh yeah, you're totally fine, you've just let this case consume your well being for shit and giggles" expression. Hotch had always hated when that look was directed at him, mostly because he understood that Prentiss was right to do so._

_Like this moment had been, for instance._

"_Can I help you, Agent Prentiss?" Aaron had asked while looking up from his pile of paperwork when Emily entered the room. There had been a slight frown on her face and an absence of her usual grace; exhaustion had been weighing heavily on her._

"_I think they have support groups for these kinds of things," she had responded only half-sarcastically. "Workaholics Anonymous, although the meetings would have to be after over-time."_

_Despite the fact that Hotch had sighed at his friend's remark he had let it slide._

"_I'm almost done here." Liar. "Then I'm going to pick Jack up." Truth._

_She had only raised an eyebrow and asked a rhetorical question if he had ever heard one, "before midnight?"_

_Since when had he become an open book?_

"_You shouldn't still be here, Emily. Go home." Hotch had sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. But Emily hadn't listened to Hotch, not that he had really expected her to, and instead waltzed her way around his desk and plucked his pen out of his hand. She had been incredibly she wasn't anyone else._

_There had been a momentary pause in which Hotch reflected on how the moment could be interpreted. It certainly could have been seen as "personal" and even "intimate" but it wasn't the alleged "intimacy" that had made Hotch think, instead it was the unfolding of events that had led up to the "moment". Had Aaron ever let someone in willingly; had he ever even noticed that it had been happening? Certainly not or else he would have run in the opposite direction. Aaron Hotchner had never done well with breaking down walls and wearing his heart on his sleeve._

_Emily's voice had broke Hotch from his insights. "I told Jessica that you'd pick Jack up soon."_

_Instinctively his eyes had found hers with that gaze that just screamed eternal questioning. It still bothered Hotch how—no matter what he tried—it would always be obvious that he could continually be surprised. He had always believed that a "poker face" was something to strive for, however his eyes seemed to disagree. Ever since Aaron could remember his mother, as well as a few other close relatives and family friends, had made it a point to inform him that having such expressive eyes were a blessing, however he had only seen them as a nuisance that let other people see what was going through his mind. According to his mother, Aaron had never liked being "figured out"._

"_Thanks." Sure, it had been mumbled but it had been vocal appreciation instead of a nod or a look. It was something akin to human connection and when cases like the ones that they had just experienced it was amazing that Hotch could summon that much up. Prentiss had sighed a little gratefully and started pulling on the jacket Hotch hadn't realized was draped over her arm._

_Patiently, Prentiss had waited until Hotch was packed up, likely to make sure he actually left. Together they had made their way out of the building only dividing when they realized that their cars were in opposite directions._

"_Get Jack, go home, and get some sleep." Emily had said it like it was a statement, as if it were a routine or expectation she had been reciting. "Promise me."_

_Hotch had begun to argue this with a slow drawl of her name, one that she had interrupted before the second syllable._

"_Promise me," she had reinforced and with the addition of her hand on his elbow, not willing to back down verbally as well physically. Aaron had given her another one of those expressive looks and she had to try her hardest not to crumble. Unintentionally she had squeezed his the crook of his elbow and he had faltered, letting go of all the built up tension._

"_Why do you do it?"_

_Based on the confused reaction spelt across Emily's face, Aaron had realized he would have to elaborate._

"_Take care of everyone else?"_

_It had been Emily's turn to let her defences fall; her arm had, however, stayed locked in place._

"_Because you can't do it all the time."_

_The tall, dark, and handsome man had conceded to this and met his friend's gaze again. "Come home with me."_

_Where the __fuck__ had that come form?_

"_H—" Emily had begun but was cut short._

_Aaron had to work twice as hard to keep eye contact as he confessed something he hadn't planned on telling her. Ever._

"_It's just a bed when I'm alone."_

_And by some freak chance Emily had managed to decode his admission with a spark of awe in her deep, dark eyes._

"_My car or yours?"_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Comment: **

1) Confusion was mentioned in the previous chapter's reviews and I would offer clarification but I am not sure what you were all confuzzled over (o.O) so you'll have to tell me in so that I can help straighten things out, okay? :D

2) The flashback was totally lame, I am well aware, and even though I wanted to make it more…more (if that makes any sense) but I didn't want to jump into a situation that makes Hotch or Emily any more out of character than I've already accomplished :P.

3) Originally it was Hotch who was supposed to be driving the car and that piece of the chapter was mostly going to be the insight of JJ and Rossi who would be accompanying Hotch to the Nolan household. However, a turn of events occurred when I felt that the dialogue in this chapter was lacking and that it would be interesting to see the team worrying over Hotch without Hotch actually being there. You know? XD

4) Plus it gave Reid and Hotch something to do while they were not present ;D.

5) Yes, Zephyr is on the run and for the most part Prentiss is still in tact :D. There will be a little more on this in the next chapter because it is a change in scenery and I have some tricks up my sleeve ;D.

6) Insight on Andrea, Phoenix, and Renée! This was rather exciting for me to write, although most of it was Phoenix centred which I'm not sure of :P.

7) Super long author's comment, I know, so I am going to wrap this one up with the good ol' "read, reflect, and review" ;D. Thank you so much for reading and stick around to see what's coming up next :D.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five, I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For people who really ought to smile more often, after all they're the one's with the prettiest.

**Date of Completion:** Sunday June 6th 2010.

**Author's Comment:** Accomplishment! I'm no longer beating around the bush like I have been for the past two chapters, this time I'm letting y'all sink your teeth right into a nice, juicy Renée scene as well as some shameful Hotch/Prentiss-y goodness ;D.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven. Finding Heaven**

_"There is only one way to Heaven. On Earth we call it 'love'."_

_- Unknown._

_

* * *

_

_8:30AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_The Abandoned Nolan Household_

It still smelt the same. It smelt of sandalwood, lilies and some other, inconspicuous fragrance that made up the scent of his childhood. For a moment, when he let his eyelids droop shut, he could be right back there, running through the front lawn with no shoes on and the sun shifting his mother's hair from dirty blonde to strawberry. He could still picture Renée with long brown pigtails and pint-sized overalls, giggling as she blew bubbles with plastic wands and plucked dandelions apart. When had he become so estranged?

As he headed up the dirt driveway to the front door Zephyr held Emily in both of his arms so that he could carry her with ease, he sighed and inhaled with each step so that the flashbacks could wash over him. When he reached the door he saw that it was weak on its hinges, that the paint had chipped severely, and that the glass was absolutely filthy. With his hip, Zephyr twisted the doorknob and entered being precautious of the woman in his arms as well as how loud and creaky the floorboards were after years without seeing any use other than the pitter-patter of Daddy Long Legs.

After wiping his shoes on the rug at the front door—old habits die hard—the man walked around the house like he hadn't left for almost two decades. The first floor that consisted of the sitting room, living room, kitchen, dining room, bathroom, and a hall closet, all of which were coated in a nice film of dust that Zephyr had the compulsion to run his finger through as he passed. In the living room there was a couch that was in dyer need of being cleaned but laid Emily down on it despite that, deciding that they could clean after she got the rest she needed.

"Wow." Zephyr breathed as he took in the rustic state of his childhood home. "Nothing's changed."

And he was right with the exception of needing a good cleaning and updated renovating, of course, the house was pretty much identical to the one he remembered growing up. Slowly Zephyr reacquainted himself with the kitchen and the cupboards and the barely used furniture. Then he carried on to the dining room that still had a white linen tablecloth drawn over the oak table, all the wooden chairs aligned in perfect order, and the room just as echo-y as ever. Off of the stairwell there was a small, sunk in sitting room that was mostly made up of ancient furniture and raggedy rug because the piano had been reposed when he was in his late teens. There were still spot marks from where photographs had hung so Zephyr was glad that his sister had taken the time to help him pack for their new home, the one that they could start over in.

It was a rather simple plan that Zephyr had concocted: first they would find a nice, cozy, and recluse place to start fresh in, then he would enrol Phoenix in some local school and have Renée continue to home school Andrea while he made a living somewhere in town where no one would go looking for trouble. It would help that Zephyr had grown up in a town that relied on sealed lips and pretty fantasies of home life to get by.

Recollecting his old neighbours and townspeople, Zephyr felt a shiver run down his spine. The woman down the block who made her living servicing politicians, high profile lawyers, and other wealthy gentlemen. She had been a kind woman and although there were "rumours" no one dared admit that the truth was she sold her body for her children to get by on more than Salvation Army clothing and only have one lunch packed per week. Or the bank manager who was embezzling money to pay for his second family, the one that he ran away to once a month and everyone in town pretended was to meet with his Church group. Or his old babysitter who got knocked up as a result of being raped by the high school valedictorian and was sent away to some far off relative so that she wouldn't be a shame to her immediate family who had lied and claimed that their daughter was studying abroad.

It wasn't an easy thing for Zephyr to realize when he was just a young boy and even still as he matured into a young man but now, after losing Temperance who had to be the one of the three unspoiled things in his life at the time—the others being Phoenix and their future second child—the man learned that people do things because they're desperate, afraid, and they love so wholly that they'd do anything for what they believed in and what they _wanted_ to believe in.

* * *

_8:32AM_  
_ Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_ Quantico Police Department_

Hotch and Reid had arrived at the Quantico Police Department with a short to-do list: speak to the police officers that had been interviewing Renée Nolan, interview the aforementioned woman as well as her niece and nephew by themselves, and find out as much as they possibly could about where Zephyr would have taken Emily and what he would do to her. However, Reid wasn't too certain of Hotch's eagerness to interview the slender, scraggily haired woman, with the pale but pretty facial structure. To be honest, the young genius was worried that Hotch would step into the interrogation and within minutes both the unit chief and the woman would be suffering from catatonia or there would be bloodshed, neither of which Reid was looking forward to.

"Hotch don't you think it would be wise to have Agent Sidney continue to interview Renée?" Reid asked as he walked in step with the older agent who wasn't bothering to divert his attention, no matter how briefly, from the door of the interrogation room.

"That may be true, Reid." The dark haired, dark eyed man conceded as he strode forward. "But I'd like to gather my own profile of Renée and her relationship with our Unsub."

_Bullshit._ "You're being stubborn, Hotch."

This had caught Hotch's attention. "Beg your pardon, Agent Reid?"

Ooh, pulling rank, this was not going to be pretty.

"You want to go in there and figure out where Emily is just like the rest of us do but you don't want to interview Renée Nolan you want to obsess about this case worse than your already are. Don't do that to yourself Hotch, I know you can't get past the fact that it's one of us but we can't risk either you or our best chance cracking because you don't like feeling immobile."

How could concern sound so much like blame? Hotch faulted it on the fact that he was taking everything personally these days.

"Alright then," Hotch forfeited to the young genius. "You interview her."

* * *

_8:38AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Quantico Police Department_

"Do you know why you're here, Ms Nolan?" Reid questioned the woman opposite of him, the one with a blank look on her face and was drumming her fingers on the table.

"Yes." One-word answers were awful during interrogations so Reid persisted.

"You're brother kidnapped a member of the BAU as well as two other innocent women." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and Reid had made sure of that.

From the folder that he had carried in with him, Reid revealed the smiling pictures of the victims, oldest to newest. He inspected the woman's features for clues but saw nothing beyond a distant sadness or sympathy.

"Yes." Renée responded slowly, surely, and again distantly. If this were a truly submissive woman she would stay loyal to her dominant by not revealing information or whereabouts. However, after briefly speaking to the two officers Reid and Hotch had learned that she was beginning to open up although not nearly enough to divulge knowledge of her brother's or Emily's current location.

Reid paused and moved the first two pictures to one side of the table leaving Emily Prentiss alone in the centre. "He killed them didn't he? Is that what he did after he abducted them and found them unsuitable?"

She placed her palms down on the table and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles as she answered, her eyes set on him but her gaze a little unsteady. "It was never that they were unsuitable."

"Then why did he do it? Did he get bored of them or did they challenge him? You know dominant personalities often default to rage when they're stood up to? That must have been what set him off."

A lip-twitch changed Renée's entire face and as she leaned forward, a small move that made her seem so much more intimidating. Sombre, the woman tilted her head and informed the young agent that it he was wrong.

"Wrong about what?" The genius questioned with a raised eyebrow. "The women fighting back?"

"No, they fought back and they deserved the repercussions; fighting back only gets you in trouble."

This piqued some interest in the young agent.

"Would you happen to know that from first hand knowledge?"

Being stubborn, Renée changed her tactics to being unresponsive.

"We're not talking to you to get you or your brother in any trouble, Renée. We just want to help you and your brother, your niece and nephew, and agent Prentiss. So has Zephyr ever hurt you?"

Two palms slammed down on the table and it rattled enough to startle Reid into shifting away in his chair, staring at the woman with wide eyes.

"Never!" Her hair fell over her face and her eyes narrowed. "Zephyr never laid a hand on me and he never hurt those women, Zephyr would never hurt myself or any other woman."

The room settled and the woman resumed her sitting position, having been half-standing when she shook the table beneath her steady hands. Reid noticed that the photographs had fallen to the floor so he picked them up gently and slid them back into the folder. When he took his seat again, Renée was sitting with her hand folded neatly in her lap and her ankles crossed in a very lady-like position. Her jaw was tight, her cheeks sucked in and her head was pointed straight forward as if she were forcing herself into perfect posture; it was amazing how this woman could go from a provoked wreck to a completely composed woman.

"So Zephyr never hurt you," Reid accepted. "Then why are you protecting to him?"

She tucked some stray tresses behind her ear and sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the agent. "You are such an only child."

"Are you implying that you're protecting your brother based solely on the ideal that siblings have an obligation to keep each other's secrets?"

Renée gave him a look but answered him nonetheless. "No I am not, Agent Reid. I am telling you that I love my brother and will continue to honour his good name, I am telling you that he has done nothing but protect and care for me all of my life, and I am telling you that my brother never killed those women."

There was a pause just long enough to make Renée feel confidant in what she had shared and to make her think that the young agent across from her believed in what she had told him but when Reid finally did speak Renée was not expecting what came out of his mouth.

"Actually what you're telling me is that your brother made you do the dirty work."

She looked as if she had seen a ghost; her face paled and her eyes widened with shock.

"You're telling me that you feel obligated to your brother so you take care of his children and keep his house, you're telling me that you're submissive to your brother because he's spent his life looking after you since you didn't have a father figure, and that you accept his actions even though you know what he has been doing is wrong. You need to tell us where he is."

This time, instead of going trembling the table, Renée jerked out of her chair and stormed in a semi-circle around the table so that she always remained on her half of the room. She worked on autopilot, her steps uneven and ungraceful, her voice escalating as she cried out "liar" until she collapsed against the wall furthest from the door.

"If you really want to help your brother you're going to have to tell us where he is and where he took agent Prentiss."

Renée didn't bother looking up at the SSA crouched beside her. "You lie."

"No, I don't, Renée." Reid argued as he held her shoulder and rubbed it soothingly. "Now please, help us help you and him."

She shrugged Reid off and stood up, shaking her nerves off. "Where are Phoenix and Andrea?"

"We can't let you leave yet, Miss Nolan." The SSA informed her, gesturing towards her seat. "But the sooner you co-operate the sooner you can see your niece and nephew."

She headed towards the door anyways and whispered to herself; "I have to find them. I have to."

"Renée!" Reid called, turned, and grasped the woman's elbow so that she would turn into him. "I can't let you see them yet."

Twirling around, the bottom of her knee-length skirt spun in the breeze of her movement and the strap of her bra slid down her shoulder as she lifted her fist and it connected with his jaw. "Stay away for me!" She screamed and before her hand even grasped the doorknob officer Hahn had her tackled to the floor.

Crying out, Renée kicked and screamed under the pressure of the officer who was attempting to put a pair of handcuffs on her while officer Sidney fussed over Reid's bruising jaw and took him to get some First Aid, informing Hotch to stay and assist officer Hahn if necessary.

"No more, oh Dieu, no more." The brunette woman gasped as she bit into Hahn's shoulder. _"Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce le Seigneur avec vous."_

Beneath the much larger man, Renée struggled, scratched and shrieked until she heard the officer swear and instantly she relaxed long enough for the cuffs to bound her wrists and her eyes to cloud with tears. Hahn stood up and stared down at the woman with her eyes squeezed closed and her mouth ajar. The tall, fit, dark haired, green eyed man had hoped that he didn't hurt her when she was fighting him off but she didn't appeared to be injured in anyway, she just couldn't stop strangling sobs and shaking with her knees drawn up to her chest.

Both Hotch and Hahn stood aside as they watched the woman's body wrack with tremors and her mouth harshly whisper the words to one of the few things that she knew for certain in her life.

_"Priez pour nous pécheurs maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort."_

Once she finished the mumblings of an almost incoherent "Sainte Marie" she ran through the "Notre Père" a few times. The two men could only wait until she eventually tried herself out and slumped over her own body on the floor of the interrogation room.

"Oh, Zephyr," Renée hiccupped. "Be okay."

* * *

_6:12AM_  
_Tuesday January 12th 2010_  
_The Hotchner Household_

_She had taken her own car so that Hotch hadn't needed to drive them both into work that morning. Most mornings Emily left before Hotch would even finish his morning shower, leaving only a pot of coffee brewing and the bed neatly made before she disappeared. But this morning Emily had not been able to shake her insatiable desire for Aaron Hotchner's mattress. Honestly, Emily could have married the damn thing; it was just that goddamn comfortable. However, the man who actually owned the magical cloud dubbed "mattress" had been Hell-bent on getting the half-dead BAU agent out of bed and on her feet._

_In that half-asleep state Emily had been seriously weighing the pros and cons of whacking the living daylights out of Hotch if he tried to get her out of bed one more time. "Five more minutes." Emily had bargained with her face wedged between two very fluffy pillows. The sheets had been cleaned recently and smelt just heavenly to the BAU agent._

_From somewhere unknown to Emily at the time, Hotch responded dryly with; "you said that ten minutes ago."_

_Argumentative, especially before the first hit of caffeine, Prentiss had reminded Hotch that it had, in fact, only been seven minutes since she last requested more sleeping in time. And Hotch, being the intelligent man that he was, had not pressed the issue as he had paced around the room like a caged animal._

_"Mmm," the woman had hummed into the pillows as the sounds of Hotch's rhythmic stepping had only increased. "What's the matter, Hotch?"_

_Frankly, Prentiss had expected a dry response about lazy agents who were not getting their asses out of bed but instead was surprised by Hotch informing her that he couldn't remember where the Hell he had left his briefcase. Emily had, upon looking at the digital clock, decided to roll on to her back, sit up, and give her friend a hand. Oy._

_"Where do you last remember putting it?" She had asked as she stretched out each of her limbs, revelling in all the space that the bed had to offer when Hotch was taking up the other side. Hotch had only grumbled a "if I knew that I wouldn't be wondering where it was" in response._

_"No need to get snippy," Prentiss had pointed out as she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and let her feet hit the ground. She had begun missing the bed in that instant. "We'll find it, well you'll find it while I put on some coffee and hop in the shower but I'll shout if I see anything." And with that she had been out the bedroom door, Go bag on hand, and leaving Hotch in her wake._

_About a minute after Prentiss had ventured downstairs, she had reappeared outside the bathroom door, wearing her exhaustion and "seriously, Hotch?" face. The dark haired, dark eyed, man hadn't needed to ask why she was giving him that look once he saw the briefcase dangling in her hand. "On a chair in the kitchen," was all that she had said before closing the bathroom door behind her. At the time, Aaron had only cocked an eyebrow and shrugged._

_Once Hotch had heard the running water switch off after ten minutes of use, he had made the correct assumption that Emily would get dressed in the back up clothes that she kept in her Go bag, would run a brush through her hair, and apply whatever makeup it was that she wore. By 6:28AM Prentiss had been mostly dressed and drying her hair. She had walked into the kitchen to find Aaron leaning against the island with a mug of smelled like caffeinated Heaven and he had, knowing her so well, offered her the mug that he left on the countertop._

_"Blue tie?" The beautiful and much more awake agent had asked from behind the rim of her mug._

_Aaron had furrowed his eyebrows in response. "Yes?"_

_His absolute confusion had made Prentiss want to laugh, instead, however, she had answered him. "Blue means that you're not out looking for any adventures; you're calm and you want to keep it that."_

_He had, of course, pointed out that he didn't choose to find cases nor was him being calm a seldom event. And she had, of course, reminded him that she was a profiler and on his team, no less. Aaron had never been in the habit of being proven wrong and Emily had known that so she had the dropped the conversation there. Emily had then offered to make breakfast and Hotch had reminded her for the kajillionth time that she was a guest and shouldn't have to prepare food when he was perfectly capable even if he hadn't mastered anything past eggs, toast, and cereal._

_"How 'bout you go grab the paper and let me do something other than take up half of your bed for once?"_

_After a very silent and appropriately epic "Hotchner stare" had taken place, the aforementioned man had conceded and went to retrieve the morning newspaper from the mailbox. He had then ran back upstairs to make sure he had forgotten anything important as well as to check on Jack who had still been sleeping soundly in his own bedroom. When he had come back down the stairs he was welcomed with the sight of two plates with omelettes, toast, fresh fruit, as well as refreshed mugs of steaming coffee. Uncharacteristically, the compulsion to kiss Emily was present in the SSA, as he had taken his seat at the table, the one opposite her and they ate and read their respective sections of the newspaper in a compatible silence._

_Breakfast had come to a close and Hotch still had an hour to kill before he wanted to leave for work, whereas Prentiss was planning on coming in at 8:30AM, which could be considered early, but not as early as the workaholic Aaron Hotchner._

_"Oh, Prentiss," Aaron had spoken from across the kitchen, garnering the other SSA's attention._

_Suddenly, Emily's interest had been piqued. "Yes, Hotch?"_

_"Never mind," and apparently Aaron had lost his._

_However Emily had been intrigued, even more so by his dismal of the conversation. "No, seriously Hotch, what's up?"_

_"It's not important." He had lied, turned away from her and busied himself with unloading the dishwasher. Without having to look, Aaron had been able to tell that Emily had moved to stand near him under the guise of helping put away the dishware._

_With a hand towel in one hand and a cup in another, Emily had dried while she replied to the man who had been standing beside her. "It obviously is."_

_Instead of responding to her vocally, Hotch had focused on placing the cutlery back in its rightful place; Aaron had done this methodically until he had convinced himself that the silence was drowning him._

_"You've spent how many nights here, worked countless hours and cases with me since you joined the BAU, and I've known you since I've worked for your mother."_

_Yes, Emily had been aware of this, so why had Hotch felt the need to bring it up?_

_"Yet I only know you from your file, work, and mutual friends."_

_Ah, Emily had thought with relief. That was all?_

_"Well, like you said," she had replied smoothly as she handed him a plate to put away. "I've spent how many nights here so if you wanna know just ask."_

_Just ask?_

_Had it always been that easy?_

_Hotch, refuelled with equal parts of confidence and curiosity, had wasted no time with the inquisition. "Favourite colour?"_

_Emily had passed him another plate and answered; "blue or red…or purple."_

_"Favourite animal?"_

_A fistful of butter knives had passed between them._

_"Bearded dragon or a horse."_

_Next had been a coffee mug._

_"Book or movie?"_

_Soup bowl._

_"Depends if it's a classic or not."_

_He had quirked an eyebrow and asked; "the book?"_

_She had smiled sideways and answered; "the movie."_

_It had continued with a string of equally inane questions—some with more interesting answers than others—until they had reached the point where the dishwasher was empty, Emily was sitting on the countertop, and Hotch was wearing something akin to a smile. Neither of them had cared to notice that it had been twenty minutes after eight._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:**

**I. **Reid/Hotch scenes own on the show so I really, really wanted to do one in a chapter and I thought this would be a good opportunity to do so because I love Reid-centred interviews :D.

**II. **I don't know about you guys but I rather enjoyed the interrogation scene between Renée and Reid mostly because I adore writing Renée and the above comment***.**

**III. **The flashback sequence de jour was an idea that I've been teasing at for a while now, the morning after. Now, like it says in the story, Emily usually disappears in the morning but I thought it would be nice to show you guys one of those times (in my mind) when she sticks around so you'll have to tell me what you think :D.

**IV. **Maybe I just like bad guys but the Zephyr/Emily perspective that I usually put at the beginning of the chapter feeds my dark, evil sadist side :P. I know it's usually angsty and awful but it reminds me of those twisted moments on the show that during which I can't help but change the channel which is a weird way to explain it, I know xD. Whatever! Please feel free to tell me what you think :D.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five, I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** For all those suffering through exams and culminating assignments, doesn't it just suck? :P

**Date of Completion:** Sunday June 13th 2010.

**Author's Comment: **Fantastic news, dear readers! Unfortunately it's followed by some not so fantastic news.

*The Good News:

This week is "Quiet Week" at school, which simply means that the teachers cannot assign students any new homework or projects, teach us anything new during class, and we are to use our time to study for our final exams. Sounds lame, huh? Well, in short, it means that I will have more time to dedicate to my writing since I can study during the school day and then come home to write/study here!

**The Not So Good News:

I have exams next week (Monday 22nd - Thursday 24th) which unfortunately means that I may not be updating until the 24th or after since I should be studying the 20th and 21st :P. Now to make matters worse I have a bunch of stories on my mind and to-do list that I will not be able to get posted until after exams D:

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twelve. Home, Sweet Home.**

_"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave and grow old wanting to get back to."_

_~ John Ed Pearce._

* * *

_8:52AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_The Abandoned Nolan Household_

He had no intention of going crazy, it had just happened and that was all there was to it. Things happen. Babies are born, children are raised, people screw up and on occasion they learn, sometimes someone lucks out and makes it but inevitably they will die. Life goes on. The world doesn't stop turning, the story never ends, the wound never heals one hundred percent and people don't stop smiling and laughing and loving even though they have every reason to.

Zephyr had learned that no matter how bad things got and no matter how hard it was for you at that very moment somewhere else at the exact same moment life was going on. At a young age, Zephyr had learned that he was not the sun and that the universe did not revolve around him. It had been something drilled into his head, not because his mother was a cynic but because she was an honest woman with the genuine belief that he shouldn't grow up in a world of petty charades. Jude Nolan had always been a strong woman, tough as nail, takes no shit, paves her own way kind of woman.

As a young boy and as he matured into a young man, Zephyr Nolan had admired that trait in his mother, along with many others. The thing was that his mother was so tough because she had to be, because_ "things happened"_ in her life that made her that way. Sometimes—when the need to know itched so bad under his skin—Zephyr would ask his mother what had happened that she had overcome but every single time Jude would answer that same answer in that same motherly tone, the one that no one ever had the guts to challenge.

_"I was hunted down, baby."_ She would say to him in a far away voice. _"Reality can smell doubt from a mile away."_

When Zephyr was little he hadn't understood what his mother had meant but as he grew older, perhaps even wiser, he lived through experiences that would shatter anyone's belief and hope in humanity. He lost people he had loved metaphorically as well as physically, stood on the outside of an awful instance, looking in, and gave up on any chance of living any type of better life. To avoid the most heartache, Zephyr decided not to live in a world of pretty pictures and happy hallucinations, he wouldn't live lies or to play pretend. Zephyr had been determined to make a legitimate and sincere life for himself, one that led him to find Temperance Spear.

Temperance Spear would forever be the woman with dark chocolate tresses and the drowning doe eyes to Zephyr Nolan, because that was what he saw when he first met her, well that and a button down blouse and washed out blue jeans and a flower in her hair. She would always be the one with the crooked smirk and shy smile, hyperactive eyebrows and inch long eyelashes; the woman who spoke with a deadpan knowing that she sometimes swapped with a velvety flirtation. From the moment that Zephyr had laid his eyes on her he knew she was glorious, however he had never—in his wildest imagination—fathomed her to be so goddamned perfect. With her perfect strut and her perfect posture and her perfectly imperfect family history.

Temperance was one of those girls who did well academically, was healthy physically and emotionally, and had a busy enough calendar. She was never the Student Government president or the Homecoming Queen or the class valedictorian but she could have been. She wasn't the school's sport star or the beauty queen that got her name on bathroom stalls; she wasn't the genius or the musical prodigy, and she didn't date the Mr America in high school. No, Temperance Spear was perfect enough to not be too perfect. She was a knock out but not unbelievably so, she was intelligent but no Sir Isaac Newton, she was friendly but wouldn't be voted Ms Congeniality any time soon. But best of all, Temperance Spear was believable, a real woman, not some "perfect" girl; she had skeletons in the closet and she got mad in public and she wasn't always a well-mannered lady. Zephyr had been enamoured with the fact that his girlfriend turned wife wasn't some fictive character, a bubble to be burst, but instead a reality, one that Zephyr was keen on living with for the rest of his life. And then she had gone and died.

His wife had died slowly, tragically, and most of all unexpectedly, which was when Zephyr had begun to gradually lose his control, heart, and mind. What was he left with? A bunch of reminders and memories, none of which would ever been enough to satisfy a man who never got to say goodbye and whose last moment with his wife was one where she was screaming on the top of her lungs out of pain, crushing every bone in his hand, puffy and drugged while ten centimeters dilated, bringing their infant daughter into the world. She did what mother's claim they would do in any dangerous situation; die for their child. Temperance had died and to balance it out an innocent baby had been born.

Zephyr had only gave his daughter her middle name because it had been his wife's wish, the one that she had made him promise when he rushed her to the hospital that fateful day. Andrea Prudence Nolan was a miracle to everyone but her father, who, upon seeing her for the first time in a pink baby blanket and beanie cap had only become watery-eyed because Andrea had looked so much like her mother. Defenseless in her father's arm, the infant girl squirmed and blinked her eyes open a few times, completely unaware of the damage her birth had done. He had stared down at her with a mixture of turmoil, resentment, and hurt. She was adorable with wide eyes and supple skin and a little, gummy mouth. And instantly Zephyr had hated everything about the morsel of a human being in his arms.

In fact, if he tried hard enough, Zephyr could still remember handing his daughter off to his sister who had been sitting in the waiting room with Phoenix asleep on the couch beside her. She had taken the newborn in her arms and looked at her older brother with that questioning gaze of hers. Zephyr had shrugged her off and rushed to the nearest exit, leaving Renée stranded with a baby in her arms and confusion splayed across her face. She had named her Andrea—something about a warrior or strength or something along those lines—and Zephyr hadn't cared because even though it would have been so easy to hate his daughter for what had happened it was easier then just to treat her like the insignificance that she was because really, who was this little girl without her mother, a mother who was gone now anyway?

Distracted by something moving on the other side of the room, Zephyr watched as the sedation started to really wear off and the figure of a woman rouse on the living room couch. She was beautiful even though her clothes were disarranged and her hair was a knotted mess, she was beautiful because she was finally back home and with him. That was enough and that was almost all that Zephyr would need. Of course he wanted to go back for his sister and son, as well as Andrea if only because the connection between Renée and the girl the bond already forged between the young girl and Temperance. Then, once they were all together in their home again, they could continue to live like a true family with no missing pieces and no ghosts haunting their memories.

"Where am I?" She whispered, more than likely to herself however Zephyr had taken her question personally and so he answered her with a warm, round voice.

_"Home."_

_

* * *

_

___9:54AM  
Wednesday March 25th 2010  
Quantico Police Department, Virginia _

_They don't really care about you; they're just acting like they do._

This is the thought running through Phoenix's head as he stares at the lady in a police officer's uniform and the man wearing a sweater-vest. It's not as if Phoenix is unnaturally mistrusting or suspicious of authority or any adults for that matter, he just understands that when adults speak to children they're supposed to be kind and compassionate, claiming that they want to help but none of them really do. If these people cared about him and his sister they would have let them see their aunt, they would have let them go back home, and they wouldn't be putting them through all of this. Instead Phoenix is stuck in a room that reminds much to much of the one he had been in after his mother died and he was expected to speak to some woman who worked with children for a living, a woman who was supposed to take his problems and shrink them down so that they were practically invisible. It hadn't worked out too well and so Phoenix found that if anyone was going to change his life it was going to be him; he's been independent ever since.

"How old are you, Phoenix?" The woman asks whilst tucking some reddish brown hair behind her ear.

Instead of answering the officer's question directly Phoenix states what appears to be the obvious; "You know you could tie your hair back easier if it were all the same length."

This was clearly not the answer that either the woman or man had been expecting, if their facial expressions were anything to go on.

"It's layered so it's supposed to be different lengths." She replies so Phoenix lets it go, nodding his head and falling silent. "But we're not here to talk about hairstyling, sweetheart; we're to talk about your father."

No duh.

"I'm eleven." The boy responds, not blinking as he traces designs with his fingertips on his jeans. "And why my Dad, is everything all right?"

The lady's smile falters just slightly and it seems that she is becoming more serious, what with her straightening her posture and setting her jaw in place, when she speaks it sounds annoyingly caring and compassionate. "That's what we want to know."

"You live with your father, correct?" The man asks as his hair flops in his face, his lips are pressed together but he isn't the least bit threatening.

"And my aunt and my sister." Phoenix informs both of the adults as he interlaces his fingers and rests them on the tabletop.

The man seems to take notice of this and Phoenix swears he can see the gears turning in the man's mind, as if he is piecing together a puzzle in there. "Would you consider your family to be a happy one?"

Stupid question.

"What family is happy all the time?"

Phoenix watches as the man and the woman share a very brief glance, then the man turns back to face Phoenix with a new look in his eye.

"You're right, Phoenix, no one is happy all of the time. What we're asking you though is if your family settles disagreements without hurting each other, that you all care about each other and that you can feel safe in your home. By that definition would you say that your family is happy?"

There is a pause, one that is apparently long enough to warrant concerned looks from the police officer and the FBI agent. Phoenix didn't know if he could classify his family as "happy" but then again what else could they be? After his mother died Phoenix had been disbelieving and then depressed; he had mourned her and moved from feeling hurt and helpless to feeling an ache at the realization that he lacked something that he loved. However-slowly but surely-Phoenix had allowed his aunt into his life to help after the loss of his mother and the new addition of his baby sister, something that seemed to equal out the pain at least a little bit. Then once first grade had rolled around Phoenix allowed himself to be taken away by friends, school and a life that he imagined he would had have if his mother was still around. Having a life outside of that empty feeling house, having interests outside of trying to remember his mother and the decline of the father he once knew, as well as having people in his life that weren't ghosts and weren't living in the past but instead striving for a future was what kept Phoenix going. So is he really the best one to ask about what went on his house and in his father's head? After all, Phoenix has always done everything in his power to picture his house being somewhere different, somewhere better, somewhere it could be full again, like it used to be.

"We love each other, no one hurts us, and our home is safe."

But even as Phoenix presses the truth he cannot help but remember that half lies are just that, halves.

"Okay," the man breathes as he reaches for a folder that he drags across the table and closer to himself. "Since your mother passes away as your father had any close relationships with any women?"

How's that for not beating around the bush?

"Yes." Phoenix says plainly and both the woman and man's eyebrows are raised. "Dad and Aunt Renée are very close."

Instead of getting a rise or reprimand out of either the officer or the FBI agent like the young boy had assumed he would, the slender, floppy haired, geeky-ish man flips open a file and scans the contents for about a millisecond. No joke.

"Do you remember when your aunt began living with you, Phoenix?"

He doesn't even have to think, "After my mom died."

The man looks at him for a moment with something that Phoenix thinks just may understand but then he speaks and it's all business. "Did she live you because she wanted to or because your father told her to?"

Phoenix recalls the hospital where his sister was born, his aunt holding the baby to her chest as his father went outside for fresh air, and even the nurse who asked her to give Andrea a name. He remembers his aunt driving the car to McDonald's so that they could have dinner while his father stayed at the hospital. He doesn't even have to close his eyes to see his aunt dressed in yoga pants and an over-sized sweater, letting him cuddle into her as he tried to fall asleep that evening how many years ago.

"She volunteered." Phoenix states sounding only slightly offended by the implication that his aunt wouldn't have wanted to be around them. "She took care of us."

The man entwines his fingers and leans back just marginally. "Us?"

"Me, my sister, my dad." He says it like it's no big deal but inside he is panicked, worried, wondering what this man wants from him and his family.

"Why did your dad need taking care of?"

The boy takes a moment to consider how to word what he wants to say and for a moment he asks himself if this is what his aunt has to do when she explains his father to him, Andrea, as well as other people. "Because he lost everything and would sometimes get real mad or sad over little things, nothing really, and no one could help him because he wouldn't talk to us about anything and when people asked how he was doing he'd just smile. We didn't make him talk when he was like that 'cause he was finally smiling again."

The woman compliments Phoenix on his courage, on his strength, on other things that Phoenix doesn't even believe he possess. The FBI guy, however, looks into the mirror that is a window on the other side like he is planning on penetrating it with his very eyes. Despite himself, Phoenix considers that pretty cool, even if the FBI guy is kind of weird.

"Can I go now? My aunt and sister are probably waiting and like hungry, you know?"

Smiling, the lady says "yes" and leads him to the door, being pleasant and friendly and other moods that the eleven-year-old doesn't think suits the atmosphere of the room at all. He stops when he hears a voice and recognizes it as the FBI guy's voice.

"He didn't lose everything, Phoenix." The man says seriously, turning his chair to face Phoenix and the lady cop. "He lost a loved one."

Phoenix can only blink.

"Don't you understand?" He speaks to the FBI agent a if he is a four-year-old. "He wouldn't do all this if she was anything less than everything."

Then he asks the reddish brunette which way to the restroom.

* * *

_9:58AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_The Abandoned Nolan Household_

_"Oh honey, it's perfect."_ She whispers in his ear with her chin resting on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his abdomen. She is leaning over him, on her tiptoes, smiling into him. He can feel her hair tickling his skin and her scent tickling his nose, he can even feel her chest pressed to his back and her nose nuzzled into his cheek. _"I haven't seen this place in forever."_

He exhales her name; "Temperance."

_"That's right, darling."_ She assures him as she rubs her palm over his chest and draws doodles on his hip with her fingertip. Her voice is still as pretty and light as it's ever been, oh and pleased she is to be with him again. He can hear her even breathing as well as the batting of her ridiculously long eyelashes against his temple. _"I'm so glad that you found me; I've missed you."_

Squeezing his eyes shut, Zephyr feels her let go of him, can hear her footsteps on the hardwood as she makes her way over to the couch. In his mind he can just picture posing on the couch like she used to; one leg tucked under the other that dangled gracefully over the edge of the couch with her spine straight and her head tilted towards him. When he opens his eyes she is instead sitting with both feet on the ground, her posture is perfect, her hands behind her back and she is wearing an expression on her face that is a cross between anger and well-concealed fear.

"Where's Renée?" She asks with her pretty mouth twisted into some kind of grimace. "Where are the children, Zephyr?"

It almost bothers him how easily she can switch from warm and affectionate to serious and detached from him. He sighs and walks across the room, takes the vacant seat beside her, circles his arm around her waist and tugs her closer. On the crown of her head, he breathes easier but he feels her tense up beside him and it sends a pang of disappointment to his heart. Why is she doing this? He wonders as she squirms away from him, obviously trying not to gain any unnecessary attention. But it's him and her, Zephyr and Temperance, and he knows every little thing about her and wouldn't waste a second on anything else. Because Temperance has always and will continue to be the thing he'll drop everything for, the one-person thing that will keep him from emptiness, the one thing he can love unconditionally and knows will always love him back. No exceptions.

"The kids are with Renée." Zephyr answers smoothly with his arm still looped around her, choosing to ignore the way she tries to shrug him off.

"And where is Renée?" She asks again, persistent and stubborn, showing her true colours to him again.

He relaxes and says, "my bet is back at the house, finishing packing."

One eyebrow raises when he tells her this. "Packing?"

"For here, hon," he says it as if it were obvious and as if she is happy to hear this, which, frankly, she is not. "We're all going to live together and once I straighten up the place a little it will be perfect for us."

_"Oh, sweetheart, what a wonderful idea!"_ Her voice is high-pitched with glee and she is angling her body into him now, he can feel it. This is the feeling he had missed so much before, the feeling of her presence and her body warmth along with her chipper laugh and sweet as candy words. He is so glad that all these components of her are finally back and that now there is an actual mouth from which her words can escape instead of the phantom lips that he has conjured up for last little while. It is so refreshing to know that she is no longer just a voice in his head, a memory, but instead flesh and blood beside him, in fact it is almost enough to overwhelm him.

_"Renée can teach Andrea while Phoenix goes to your grade school and make all sorts of new friends. I'll stay home and keep house whilst you find a nice 9-5 job in town. Everything we've ever wanted, baby."_

"All we'll ever need." He whispers into her hair, rocking her along with him, not noticing the goosebumps decorating the arms of the woman beside him.

There is a pause, one that causes any comfort in the room to evaporate instantly. Zephyr in his own world again with her sitting beside him with a tear poking the corner of her left eye.

"What are you going to do to me?" Her voice is wavering as she whispers but what he hears comes out clear and crisp, sweet and sultry. _"What are you going to do me?"_

He hugs her sideways and drops his gaze only then noticing that her head is turned up to him, looking almost afraid however he sees the same confidant, "come hither" expression he fell in love with how many years ago. _"Love me, Zeph," she murmurs. "It's been way too long."_

"Anything you want, Temperance."

And then he is on top of her.

The feeling is the same, at least what he can remember of it, and all the parts are there. She still has a wild mess of dark brown hair and her skin is still addictive to touch. Zephyr presses his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, reveling in the familiarity. Beneath him she shifts, gasps, and then-so suddenly-kicks. Square in the stomach, he feels her knee grind into him and it is not, in anyway, pleasurable. Groaning in pain, Zephyr threads his fingers through her hair and holds her head into his jugular. She bites it and he realizes what a big mistake that had been. Although she is bound at the ankles and the wrists with handcuffs she does not lose her composure, does not feel any less confidant fighting against him and she proves by propelling her foot between his thighs. Concealing his pain, which is really more emotional than it is physical, Zephyr grasps the space between her shoulder and her neck but then pressures his palm down on her exposed neck. He watches the pain register over her face after a few moments, which is followed by flashes of shock and fear. Wanting nothing more than to make the pain go away, Zephyr jerks his hand away from her jugular and to her cheek, brushing it as soothingly as she chokes in an attempt to breathe. Then she stops, thankfully, mercifully, she stops choking on her own breath long enough for Zephyr to calm down.

"Oh sweetheart," he whispers into her soft, flushed cheek. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Temperance; I love you."

_"It's okay baby, it's all right." _Her voice is adapting to her "motherly" voice, the one that she reserves for comforting Phoenix and reminding Zephyr that everything is under control. He can practically feel her hands on his shoulders, messaging all the problems away. _"Zeph, it was an accident, I understand."_

"Breathe, Tempe," he begs as he shakes her shoulders and presses his mouth to hers so that he can perform CPR. "Breathe, God damn it!"

_"It's just like that time with your sister, honey." _She is squeezing his shoulders and running her hands up and down his arms, her breath is deep and even as she tries to get Zephyr to mimic him. Eyes closed tightly, Zephyr forces himself to inhale and exhale in co-ordination with her. _"The are no bruises, nothing baby, just call the hospital or the police, call anyone Zephyr."_

"Fuck it," he swears whilst the tears start to poke at his eyes. "I won't you breathe? Open your eyes for me, honey. _Please_."

* * *

_11:54PM_  
_Thursday December 31__st__ 2010  
__The LaMontagne/Jareau Residence_

_It hadn't been a __huge__ celebration, the team had been there of course and the common few people outside of work that the team knew but by quarter to midnight it had dwindled down to Will, JJ, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, Emily, Garcia, Kevin and Morgan. Maybe it had been strange to the team when they had realized that didn't have many mutual friends outside of work but then again they were used to strange state their lives seemed to be in and had become quite fond of it. So as the clock had ticked on, slowly approaching that magical moment where everything goes from fairytale to reality—midnight—the team were nice and cozy in Will and JJ's home with baby Henry sleeping soundly despite the noise of tipsy BAU agents and blaring music._

___"C'mon Prentiss," Morgan had pestered with a charming smile. "Out with it!"_

___"No," she had responded adamantly as she sipped from her dark red wine, the one that she had traded her sparkling white in for. "No, no, no, no, no."_

___"Why won't you show us? You know you wanna." JJ had bargained with a pretty smile and only slightly slurred voice. She had then taken a sip from her own wine and let the pleasant flavor buzz inside of her._

_Emily had just shook her dark, dark hair and smirked a little against her glass. "You're all obnoxious drunks, you know that?"_

_There had been some personal protests and some conceding on each other's behalf and when that subsided there had been more badgering Emily, which the aforementioned had not been swayed by in the least. It had been stupid of her teammates to even consider that she would do something as reckless, demeaning, and inevitably humiliating even if she was already on her third glass of wine and hadn't exactly refused a first and second margarita nor had she turned down the proposition of bubbling champagne or citrus screwdrivers. All right, okay, so she had been more than sufficiently hydrated at that point but that hadn't meant that she would do something as dumb as what her alleged friends were trying to get her to do._

___Namely to prove that she had been the life of the party during the 80s, 90s and early 2000s; you know, before she met them._  


_"Emily, you couldn't have been as bad as Rossi." The young, tipsy genius had informed her as he guzzled some of his water. Rossi, who had been much less tipsy at the time, had backhanded Reid and stated that he wasn't what all the hype made him out to be. Hotch had agreed with the Italian-American agent and have even come to his friend's defense claiming that David Rossi was much worse._

_It had been a history that Emily hadn't exactly been excited to repeat, that was if she could even remember which she hadn't really been able to do both because it had been years and under the influence. Nonetheless Emily had still been able to recall her friends, boyfriends, and acquaintances alike cheering her on and not believing half the shit that she did. Only some of which had been under the persuasion of alcohol. But she had grown up, cut the stupid kid crap and even settled down, remotely. It wasn't often that Emily Prentiss had drank more than she ought to and it wasn't exactly known to anyone after 2002 to see her get as wild as she used to be, especially her closest friends who would, without a doubt, hold it over her head for the remainder of her life. So she hadn't let them persuade her, no matter what._

_"Come on, guys." Prentiss had whined a little. "It's almost midnight, don't ya all wanna enjoy it?" She had semi-slurred, distracting her friends with the impending excitement of a new year. It had worked._

_"Midnight?" Garcia had gasped, choking on her drink, forming bubbles in her glass. "Where are the noisemakers, where is the glitter, where is the radio so we can do the count down?"_

_Shifting and giggling around the kitchen, the group had found comfortable standing and sitting positions with refreshed drinks as well as a station on the radio with co-hosts speaking excitedly about the New Years' countdown. JJ had snuggled into Will when she had felt his arms wrap around her, Garcia had __pecked Kevin's lips when he embraced her, and so that left agents Prentiss, Morgan, Reid, Rossi, and Hotch sitting together at the table. In sync with one another, the two co-hosts had begun the countdown and the kitchen feel almost silent._

___10...9...8..._

_Eagerness had been written all over everyone's face as they sipped and swallowed drinks and sat on the edge of their seats, anxious and awaiting._

_7...6...5..._

_It had been obvious to everyone present who was going to kiss who; the two couples Will and JJ as well as Kevin and Garcia. Of course that had left a single female agent and four male and as much as Emily would have enjoyed giving them each a New Year's kiss she wasn't too sure she'd be able to stop herself until everyone was equally uncomfortable. Now that would have been showing off her wild side. _

_4...3...2..._

_One could have cut the tension with a knife. Sure, it hadn't been an awkward or angsty tension, just a pressure dying to be relieved. They each had, without realizing held their breath as they stared at the digital clock as if it were about to preform a Criss Angel illusion or come to life or something equally as amazing._

_1...Happy New Years' 2010!_

_It must have been an unwritten rule that they would all get kissed and not just by Emily Prentiss, either. The beautiful, blonde liaison had twisted her head back to kiss Will and then had leaned across the table and kissed Hotch on cheek, who had kissed back in kind. Garcia had gave Kevin a quick smooch and then puckered up for Reid while Emily had slid between Morgan and Rossi so that she had been able to kiss them both on the cheek and they could each return the gift._

_There had been glasses clinking, noise makers whistling, lots of enthusiastic laughter and this had continued on until they had all decided that it would be wise to not consume Quantico's entire supply of alcohol and instead go home, get some rest, and to sleep off the hangovers tomorrow. To avoid any potential DUI arrests they had designated drivers for the evening or rather the very early morning. Kevin had planned on driving Garcia back to his place while Hotch had volunteered to drive Emily and Reid home because "it was right on the way" and Rossi had agreed to drive Morgan since the last team outing that involved alcohol had ended up in the dark SSA schlepping the elder one to his house to sleep off a rather horrendous hangover._

_Reid-who had been outstandingly talkative in his tipsy state-had helped Emily to Hotch's car where he slid in her in the back seat and buckled up the seatbelt for she had been a little too intoxicated to function a seatbelt with any grace at that moment and Reid was tired of watching her stubbornly fail at locking her seatbelt the first four times. There had been some chatting on the way to Reid's-mostly a one sided conversation held up by the aforementioned-and when they stopped in his driveway, the two awake agents had said their goodbyes and wished each other a happy 2010. Then, just as Reid had been about to close his door he informed Hotch to "make sure, Em gets home safe an' sound." As if Hotch had needed the reminder._

_From Reid's apartment it was only about another fifteen minute or so drive to Hotch's where he had planned on taking Prentiss, who had been snoring lightly in the backseat. When Hotch had parked his vehicle in the garage he had called his own house so that Jane could unlock the door and then had taken extra care to remove Emily from the backseat, carry her inside, and bring her upstairs with a bottle of water and some Aspirin. He had paid the sitter extra for being later than expected as well as a holiday bonus that Jane had been very grateful for. Jane's father had picked her up within a few minutes and after Jack had been checked on once more, Hotch had found his way towards his bedroom and began to change into his pajamas. _

_Then had come the dilemma of Emily being fully dressed. Glad beyond measure that Prentiss had wore an undershirt beneath her slimming, knitted sweater, Hotch had stripped that article of clothing off of her and then decided to remove her socks and shoes as well as her belt in an attempt to make it so that she would awaken remotely comfortable. Once that mission had been completed, Hotch had settled himself on the opposite side of the bed as his sleeping colleague and let his tired eyes rest. It had been a long night but an entertaining one and although it had been his first after Foyet it hadn't been as disastrous as he had envisioned it, which was quite a comforting notion. Outside the bedroom window, Hotch could hear the wind whistling and the sounds of just quiet enough neighbors who were celebrating the festivities as well. Then, as he drifted off to sleep, Hotch had experienced something that he was sure that he wouldn't feel for a very long time: true contentedness._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** *Mournful music plays* Looks like we're getting ready for some final chapters, huh? *Record is stopped immediately* Well worry not, my lovely readers! Now some of you may be wondering if this means that I will be wrapping up the story soon but since I am _awful_ at making decisions I am leaving it up to you guys to choose! I will present the options to you momentarily...

Door 1: I continue "Disenchantment" with many more chapters however the Zephyr business will be taken care of for you all. (No spoilers!) :D

Door 2: I wrap up this story so that I can write a sequel that focuses more on the team than the Nolan family / the team. (Trying not to spoil it!) :O

Door 3: I finish up this story and leave it to continue on with different work instead of multi-tasking. This option is for those of you who tire of angst and crime style writing, in which case why are you reading this? xD

So yes, I am leaving this one up to you folks since you're the people reading and I'm just supplying the story line ;D. Please leave your choice or any suggestions you may have in a review :). Thank you again for reading the latest installment as well as this uber long author's comment xD.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five, I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication: **For everyone who has waited. Thanks for that ;D.

**Date of Completion:** Wednesday June 30th 2010.

**Author's Comment: **In response to the little poll I did at the end of the previous chapter and so far most people are opting for option number two but you can always go to my profile and vote on what you would like see happen :D. Also I apologize for making you guys wait but I hope that this manages to tide you over until I complete the fourteen chapter (points back to dedication). Now, as you may guess from the events in this chapter, Emily's abduction is coming to a close soon although there will be follow up chapters before I make any decisions about continuing more long term, a sequel, or ending it completely.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen. The Root of All Evil**

_"The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage."_

_~Thucydides_

_

* * *

_

_10:07AM  
__Thursday March 25th 2010  
__The Abandoned Nolan Household_

Being almost dead had been both scary and bizarrely interesting.

Of course it had not been very quick and Emily had only felt hazy at first, her throat feeling as if it were closing up in a way that she had imagined anaphylactic shock must feel like. Her thoughts were still recovering—no longer so viscous—as well as her vision that was still somewhat blurred. When Zephyr had been on top of her throat Emily had felt a hummingbird beating quickly in her throat, the sensation of which had made her wonder if spontaneous combustion was a legitimate cause of death. On her lips there had been another's pressing down, pressuring nitrogen and oxygen and the warm breath of the living into her. Now Emily may not be a doctor but she had believed, in that moment, that she had died and that Zephyr had been trying to bring her back. The question that Emily had asked herself was if coming back into consciousness was what she really needed to do at the moment.

Without a doubt, Emily Prentiss wanted to live, however that didn't mean that it was in her best interest at that given moment. What if she had come back into a conscious state only to be beaten and brutalized even more? What if she had come back only to remain captive in a strange new setting with a strange and very sick man? What if she had come back and couldn't handle what she saw? It took guts to work the job that she did, Emily knew that, in fact she was reminded of it day in and day out, however that didn't mean that she always had to be strong nor did it mean that she was invincible.

What if this moment is the exception because, after all, Emily _did _come back and Zephyr is no longer on top of her? Zephyr's rapid heartbeat and heavy breathing had been the only noise that Emily could register at the time but thankfully that soon ceased and was replaced by the sounds of frantic footsteps and a voice mumbling something incoherent. She had kept her eyes closed, listened for key words and particular sounds that could have helped her figure out her environment because all she knew at the time was that she was in a home that hadn't seen much life in the past two decades.

But now a few drawn out seconds have passed and the SSA can hear Zephyr state that he is going to get help and all sorts of relief submerge her body and mind. Now she is left alone in a house that she doesn't know, chained at the wrists and ankles, and letting a sedative and chokehold rub off. From her place on the couch, Emily forces herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side so that she is able to stand up properly. Feet planted to the ground firmly, Emily waddles with her feet centimetres apart towards the kitchen in search of something—anything really—that she can use to get the hell out of the stupid handcuffs.

"Come on, come on, come on." Emily whispers to herself, superstitious about who may or may not be watching or listening her trying to escape; it feels like forever since she's had a moment to herself.

There is nothing. The kitchen has no phone or food or anything that Emily could use to get help so she focuses on trying to get herself free of her bounds and she's pretty sure that a childhood and youth full of gymnastics and dance will finally have a purpose in her life, using her abandoned skill of flexibility to her advantage the SSA slides down the wall so that she is lying with her back to the kitchen floor. Looking up at the ceiling, Emily briefly wonders if she will ever have the chance to see her own kitchen again, her apartment building, hell even her workplace. Mostly she wonders if she will ever be in a familiar place again. Knees tucked into her chest, Emily completes something akin to a backwards summersault that actually ends _well _for her when she manages to fit her feet under the chain, lift the cuffs over her shins and knees, and is able to roll forward so that she's on her knees and from that point can stand up.

"No shit," she breathes, as she stands up, amazed that she can see her hands for the first time in what feels like forever. "Now what?"

* * *

_10:20AM  
__Thursday March 25th 2010  
__Virgo Police Department_

Virgo was a spec on the map, which made it practically invisible to the naked eye.

The town was populated by three thousand, five hundred or so people and covered just the bare necessities of services required for living. This meant that Virgo offered every hallmark of and that its geography was simple and only included a few simple roads in correlation to the main street that offered everything from the grocery and liquor store to the family-owned department stores. However, the most noticeable thing about Virgo was that it was divided in two; recreation on one side and services on the other.

For the most part the houses were located on the side of town where the elementary and high school were since the children were the ones who usually found the most use for the baseball diamond, soccer field, and basketball court as well as the ice rink and indoor recreational centre. On the opposite side of the town was where one would be able to find businesses and services: the family run restaurant and café as well as the single gas station and barber's shop. Of course this also included public domains such as the bank, library, church and motel.

Zephyr remembered every nook and cranny of the tiny town; he could recall the miniscule "forest" behind the soccer field, the unpaved dirt paths that led through out the town, and the dusty books and bookcases of the public library. As he walked along the gravel road, Zephyr nodded to long lost neighbours who no longer recognized him and friendly new faces that had never known him in the first place. He continued to walk past the clothes display in front of the Aiken family's department store as well as the used bookstore and knick-knack store and flashbacked to evenings spent helping out the storeowners clean up and do inventory. Past the post office that doubled as the local newspaper where Zephyr had completed his high school volunteer service hours.

Eyes trained in one direction, Zephyr strode forward until he reached the cracked cement steps of a familiar looking building, one that looked a lot less inviting this time around. He climbed the stairs and twisted the doorknob, listening to the ever-present squeak as he stepped through the threshold and grabbed the elbow of the first person that walked past him.

"I'm looking for an officer named Brendan McMasterson." Zephyr asked the man who he had stopped and was answered with a pointed finger and a vocal answer that didn't reach Zephyr's ears.

Determined, Zephyr crossed the pre-cinct that really couldn't be much more than twenty feet in length as well as width and made up most of the entire precinct. He stood at the side of the desk where a man was sitting, speaking on the phone and jotting things down in a notepad. To Zephyr it looked as if the detective was playing police officer instead of actually living it since Virgo was such a small place it seemed absolutely ludicrous that there would be any kind of criminal activity, however, Zephyr pondered that obviously wasn't the case.

"Zeph!" The detective exclaimed as he place the phone down in its cradle. "Haven't seen your ugly mug around here in a while," he teased as he gestured to Zephyr took take the seat across from himself.

"There's a handicap ramp out front." Zephyr stated blankly as his eyes inspected the pre-cinct that hadn't change much in the many years that he had been gone. The colour of the paint on the walls had changed and there were a few more plants, updated magazines, and a new coffee machine but other than that not much had been altered at all.

Pouring Zephyr a cup of coffee, the detective made some off-handed comment about how the town was making its way into a new era, no matter how slowly; in fact the fire hall was still using rotary phones. Zephyr hadn't laughed or even cracked a small smile, which had thrown Brendan for a loop.

"So what brings you back, buddy?" The tall, muscular, brunette detective asked as he offered a cup of hot coffee to Zephyr who remained sitting.

There was a pause as something on the bulletin board hung decoratively on the wall caught his attention. There were two articles, each with an identical picture cut out from the local daily paper—"The Virgo Journal"—as well as the community newsletter "The Virgo Voice". In the grainy photograph was the smiling image of a beautiful, newlywed pair. The woman was dressed in a gorgeous white gown that wasn't too plain yet wasn't too overtop; the man was dressed in a classic black tuxedo and sporting sideburns. Beside the duplicated photographs was a blurb about a September wedding and the lawfully wedded couple; beneath the pictures was a caption in bold black ink that read: _Mr and Mrs Zephyr Nolan (married Saturday September 23rd 1995). May their loving bond be faithful, fruitful and forever._

"Temperance." Zephyr murmurs as he stares sorrowfully into the bright eyes of his past life and of his past wife.

Brendan sighs and moves his chair to Zephyr's side of the desk. "I heard, man. I'm so sorry; you were both so young."

Of course Brendan knew, hell it wouldn't have surprised Zephyr in the least if it turned out the entire town knew about what had happened to Temperance. After all, it was big news in a small town and so it was inevitably going to get around. But the rumours of Temperance's death were not important to Zephyr, just speaking to Brendan was. Brendan McMasterson had always been like an older brother to Zephyr, always lending a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen even when Zephyr wasn't up to talking. Brendan with his bright blue eyes and understanding smile; his huge heart that one couldn't resist but admire as well as his complete faith in people despite his blunt—and often unappreciated—honesty. Zephyr had never been able to keep a secret from Brendan and he certainly wasn't about to start now.

* * *

_10:31AM  
__Thursday March 25th 2010  
__BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

"Virgo Police Department is about an hour away, if we leave now we'll beat the traffic." JJ stated quickly into her phone, not bothering to address herself or the significance of their destination as she grabs her travel mug full of coffee and heads out her office door.

On the other end of the line, Hotch was thoroughly confused but eternally hopeful by JJ's call. Closely, he listened to the team liaison tell him how a Detective Ben O'Conner received the e-mail that they sent out to stations all over the state, one that outlined the profile of a widowed father who already had two previous murder victims and a potential third. The blonde went on to say that the Virgo Police Department had an officer currently interviewing a man who turned himself in willingly, claiming to have murdered his wife and the mother of his children.

"But why would the Unsub come forward?" JJ asked as she walked through the bullpen, fetched Morgan and Rossi, lead them over to the elevator, and only briefly telling them to call Garcia for the details that JJ, herself, can't give while she is updating the unit chief. "And why now?"

Walking into an empty hallway, Hotch held the phone tightly and focused solely on the profile instead of the Unsub and the victim, despite the fact that it was killing him inside. "If the Unsub is Zephyr Nolan then we know that he has experienced serious emotional damage from his wife's death, which only worsened so he used his first two victims as replacements but they likely came too close to shattering the delusion of his wife thus he killed them."

"But no bodies were found." JJ pointed out whilst juggling her coffee as well as a few files that Garcia managed to pull related to the case. "And if he went to the police this time out of guilt what happened with the first two women?"

Hotch barely concealed a sigh as he searched his mental Google search engine for an answer. "Maybe Prentiss played along with the fantasy and let Nolan believe that she accepted her role as his wife and didn't fight back? But that's implying that the Alana Dayley and Jamie Kent fought back and lost."

Whilst flicking through the case file, JJ's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed, as if that would make new words jump off the pages of Zephyr Milo Nolan's history. It doesn't work but what else is new? All that JJ can see, over and over again, is the basic information that outlines their potential Unsub's life and really doesn't do any good for them or their case. "Still doesn't explain why he chose to come forward with Emily."

It is obvious to JJ that Hotch is not only pacing now but also restraining his frustration, no matter how poorly he may be doing it and her sympathy goes out to him because God knows she's in the same boat. "What if she's still alive?"

Although there is a question mark at the end of that sentence, JJ knows better than to assume that was a legitimate question instead of Hotch just vocalizing his genius-profiling mind.

"Then why would he have claimed to have _murdered_ her?"

As if he beside her now, JJ can see the wheels turning in Hotch's head, gearing up for action. "Because he thought that he killed her while he was suffering from a mental breakdown, a break from reality and too deep into the delusions where he could see his wife dying over again."

It was a long shot, a chance, something that wasn't that familiar to Aaron Hotchner, despite what Erin Straus thought of his—and his team's—alleged recklessness. When it came to life-or-death situations, putting someone in harm's way, or breaking rules and pissing off superiors it certainly wasn't sport for Aaron. Every decision was made after he had weighed the pros and cons, reviewed and reassessed the circumstances, and was certain that the profile was accurate. So it seemed rather odd to JJ to hear Hotch this way.

"So you're saying that Em is still alive?" She wanted it, oh dear God did JJ want it to be true, but she sure as Hell was prepared to get her hopes up for something they weren't sure of; the devastation would be enough to kill her. Instead of answer, the blonde liaison hears footsteps and Hotch's attention commanding, borderline but _not quite_ demanding, Unit Chief tone of voice and knows that there is no point in holding her breath, waiting for an answer. Aaron Hotchner just made a break in the case.

Vainly, JJ reminded Hotch "to call Garcia for directions because Morgan and Rossi are on their way," to which he quickly responded "thanks Jayje; you're the best."

Sighing and taking a large gulp of her coffee, JJ listened to the dial tone persistent in the background and mumbled, _"Yeah, yeah, likely story," _as she left her coffee abandoned on the desk and headed towards the elevators herself.

* * *

_10:35AM  
__Thursday March 25th 2010  
__Virgo Police Department_

"Zeph," Brendan says it so slowly because he really doesn't know what else to and procrastinating seems ideal for him now. "Why would you say that you murdered Temperance?"

Right now the two men are sitting in one of the two interrogation rooms that the Virgo Police Department has to offer; this one is painted a vague shade of green that is supposed to be calming while the other one is simply gray and lacks any sort of emotion. It is unspoken of but it is present nonetheless and that is that the rooms are designed for two different kinds of people: victim and offender. Even when it isn't written in stone, even though in America it's supposed to be "innocent until proven guilty" it hardly matters especially in instances such as these where the person the officer is speaking to just couldn't be the bad guy. Namely because the victim died of natural causes six odd years ago.

"Because I _did_, Brendan," Zephyr is forceful but not violent, he is fierce and blatant in what he is saying and because Brendan has known Zephyr for so long the office knows that his friend isn't the type to spout off things that he doesn't mean. "How many ways do I have to say it?"

_What am I supposed to say?_ The Irish-American detective wonders and just noticing now how much Zephyr has aged over the years as well as how much has managed to stay the same. Brendan isn't sure what exactly Zephyr is looking to do or what reaction he will receive, after all everyone in town knows the news that Temperance died tragically and accidentally. It hadn't been anyone's fault, how could it have been? All any happily expecting parent wants when their baby is born is for that little child to be healthy, Hell for it to live past birth is a blessing. No one really thinks about the mother in the equation because even though everyone is fussing over her in the hospital a part of them just can't get past the fact that the real event is the infant itself. In Zephyr's case it had been all about Temperance and that's all it has ever been about.

"Okay, Zephyr," Brendan is playing along now, cautiously allowing his old friend a chance to explain himself before Brendan orders a Pysc Eval pronto. "Then how did you do it; how did Temperance die?"

It is heartbreaking for Brendan to watch his friend fall apart before his very eyes and to know that there is little to nothing he can do to fix it and in Brendan's line of work he is supposed to find justice for the victim which is exactly what Zephyr is; a victim of a circumstance. The memories of a heavily pregnant Temperance and a surprisingly eager Zephyr flash before the detective's eyes; it is February and the air is pretty dead, there is serious amounts of slush in the streets, and people are still lit up from Valentines' Day which had already come and gone. Brendan remembers Zephyr assisting a waddling Temperance through the pre-cinct, a very "proud papa" look imprinted on his face as their five year old son says "hi" to every person that passes him. The Irish detective can still recall asking Zephyr, "boy or girl?"

The response, which had been completely corny was, "ours" as he kissed his wife's left temple.

Now why in the world would that same man claim that he had _murdered_ his beloved wife?

"I was holding her, kissing her, _loving_ her when she started pushing me away and fighting me. She told me she wanted it, she told me to love her but once I started touching her she was kicking and screaming. I didn't know what to do, I just wanted her to be calm and okay and I must have grabbed her neck and once I got a hold of it I must have been too rough since she stopped moving and not like I wanted."

Zephyr is desperate, dishevelled, and in an obvious amount of pain. He looks like a train wreck; drumming his knuckles on the table situated between he and Brendan, worry lines indenting his face, his pulse pressing out of his neck. Even more confused now, Brendan isn't sure of what to do. Does he continue questioning Zephyr, who is describing an assault to him or does he call in one of the few officers who has a degree in psychology to check him out? Zephyr clearly isn't in his right mind at the moment but on the other hand what if this crime that he is confessing to is legitimate and there is someone in danger? Let it be noted that this is one of the few times where Brendan will accept that lying is the best, if not only, option.

"How long did she stop breathing for?"

The Irishman watches Zephyr's expression shift from manic to ghostly in the blink of an eye.

"I don't know." Zephyr is solemn and ashamed, so much so that Brendan is certain that he is going to have to open the side window to filter the thick, awkward air out and to allow fresh, breathable air in. "She told me to call someone, anyone, and I knew that you'd still be in town and that you'd know what to do. Come on, McMasterson, don't fail me now."

They don't train people for this in the academy. Okay, lie, they don't teach people like _Brendan_ how to do this. People who grew up in small towns and stayed there throughout their entire lives, people whose most demanding days include bored teenagers vandalizing and pulling stupid pranks or adults with suspicions but absolutely no evidence to discredit a fellow town member's good reputation and humble lifestyle. No one got murdered, no one was accused of it, and Hell if Brendan decides to look through the archives he probably couldn't find a murder file for at least a decade. He may have been taught how to interrogate, investigate, collect evidence, and all that jazz but that didn't mean that it was a legitimate skill in a town like Virgo.

"Then where is she?"

Zephyr drops his attention to the table, suddenly very intrigued by the imaginary spec of dirt there.

"Where is she, Zephyr?"

Again all Zephyr offers is diverted eyes and unresponsiveness. Okay, enough of this bullshit.

"Answer me, damn it!"

Palms slamming down on the table, Brendan watches his friend's head shoot up and his expression is something between surprise and belligerent. Brendan is not blind to the fact that Zephyr has always been the kind of man who takes care of himself, takes leadership, and _loathes_ taking orders from male authority figures with every fibre in his being. Manipulating that makes Brendan feel a little bad for his friend but he also knows that Zephyr isn't just a friend in this interrogation room, he's also a man confessing to murder and that changes everything.

"I can't tell you that."

And just when Brendan didn't think that it was going to get any more difficult Zephyr continues to prove him wrong.

"Why not?"

If someone is already dead what is the point in hiding him or her? If Zephyr were already confessing to a murder wouldn't he want some incriminating evidence? And the most pressing question of course; if Temperance is already dead than who could Zephyr, possibly be talking about?

"Because I can't lose her again, I just can't."

Does this mean that Zephyr has accepted the death of Temperance six years ago or that there had been other close calls?

"You have to tell me where she is or else I can't help you."

Something in the back of his mind, however, told Brendan that Zephyr may already be too far gone.

"Have you never lost anything so precious to you, Bren?"

Then the moments flood back like a tidal wave that one just can't wade through. Her hair that wasn't quite curled but not quite straight hair-the colour the sun-long enough to just touch her hips; her teeth white that were restricted by her painful looking braces; her button nose and tiny turquoise eyes that she wore too much makeup around so that they could look larger. Brendan can still see her red fleece jacket covered in dirt and leaves, plain white blouse with the first two buttons popped off thus revealing much too much for his liking as well as her petite frame mangled on the side of the road. Her too tight to even imagine being comfortable black jeans caked in mud and her skin losing its warmth with each passing millisecond. In the backseat of a cruiser sat a disoriented and petrified looking Grady, his usually smirking, teasing, smug mug replaced by fear, shame, and sadness. Blood had been trickling from his hands, seeping out of the wounds that he made during his abrupt landing and all he could do was sit, shell shocked, repeatedly asking when he could see Bridgette. Brendan had sat in the back seat of the cruiser and told his younger brother that they were going to pray for their fallen sister, the safety of the man who would had been driving the vehicle that had collided with Grady's motorcycle as well as Grady and their entire family.

Just like Zephyr, Brendan had experienced a catastrophe and miracle simultaneously.

But that was three years ago and even though Grady still feels guilty for not being Superman, he isn't coming down to the station to cry murder.

"Bridge," is all he murmurs and instantly Zephyr gets it, nods curtly, and drops the conversation like its something turned unexpectedly hot. "That's why I want to help you, Zeph. I need to know where in case we _can_ save her or at least honour her."

Is it Brendan's imagination or does he see a flicker of something hopeful in Zephyr's eyes for the first time since he's seen him?

* * *

_6:17pm  
__Wednesday December 23__rd__ 2009  
__The Hotchner Household_

_Aaron Hotchner had always enjoyed the holiday season, despite how cold and unattached he may have seemed to everyone else, his family and close friends had known him to take a day off work for Christmas as to pretend that there were no such things as crime sprees, especially around the holidays when they increased in volume. Aaron refused the Christmas after Haley died to be the exception to this merry tradition. So when Jack asked about Santa Clause and some toy commercial he had seen on television sometime during early November, Aaron knew that he'd have to get cracking if he wanted an almost perfect Christmas for his son. It had taken weeks of hoarding baked goods and simple but festive recipes, spare minutes dedicated to online shopping, and hours of insomnia spent digging out ghosts from Christmas pasts' decorations. Of course it had been an exhausting ordeal and Aaron had often considered giving up but he knew that wouldn't be acceptable, not for Jack, not for himself, and not for Haley._

_It had been a bit of a surprise when Hotch had opened his front door and revealed the fruits of his labor to his team-mate who had the best "oh my gosh" face from a combination of rosy winter induced cheeks, snowflakes in her dark brown hair, and honest disbelief. Now why hadn't anyone ever assumed Aaron to be the festive type? He had ushered her inside and then closed the door on the cold._

_"Hello, Prentiss," Hotch had introduced as he watched his colleague's eyes drink in the sight of Christmas cheer flooding the Hotchner residence. Secretly, Aaron had been amused by her surprise._

_"Hey, Hotch." Apparently being spoken to had shaken Emily from her shock. "How are you?"_

_Again Aaron had taken in her frayed hair, flushed cheeks, and shivering body. "Better than you, it seems."_

_A pointed look had been thrown his way and in that moment Hotch was certain that Emily had patented that look._

_"I just came by to drop something off and then I'll be out of your hair." Prentiss had stated as she readjusted her dark blue knit beret on her head and that was when Hotch had noticed the three packages in her hands; a little bigger than average sized box wrapped in cheery red, white and green coloured Christmas wrapping on the bottom, a medium sized box decorated in gold and bronze gift wrap slid on top of that, and a smaller box wrapped in a dark shimmering wrapping paper on the very top._

_Then Aaron had remembered that Emily had taken the day off to pack for her vacation and that was why she hadn't been in the office._

_"I drew your name in the Secret Santa draw and I wanted to give you your gift before I left but I guess I got carried away packing so here I am." Emily had explained hastily and breathlessly and all Aaron could do was imagine Prentiss picking out Christmas gifts, wrapping present in her living room, and thinking of him. It had been an inappropriate thought, if only because Hotch had been envisioning Emily in his own home instead of her own apartment._

_"Why don't you come in, Emily?" Stupid thing to say since she was already in the house but nonetheless Aaron had felt dumb just standing in the main hall instead of doing something, namely enjoying Prentiss' presence in the rest of his home as he had become use to, at least to a degree._

_Boots wiped on the carpet, Prentiss had carefully maneuvered through Hotch's home, absorbing the twinkling lights and the scent of pine needles. Above them both Hotch and Prentiss could hear Jack running and jumping upstairs; Hotch had offered an offhanded explanation that Jack had been treated to a few early Christmas presents but Prentiss had just smiled in return. In the oven she had seen a something roasting, something that smelt wonderful and probably had been paired up with the potatoes that sat on the counter, half mashed. Emily had almost felt bad that she hadn't known Hotch could cook._

_"One is for you and the other is for Jack."_

_Hotch had repressed the urge to mention the remaining package._

_"Thank you, Emily." Aaron had melted into an almost lax mood at the mention of Jack. "This is a wonderful gesture."_

_Something akin to pride had swelled in Emily's chest after being praised so kindly._

_"It's no problem, really." She had insisted, smiling as she sniffed, her nose just a bit runny from the weather. "I saw it and thought of Jack, I just hope he likes it."_

_Hotch had just shook his head and stated that she could have bought Jack anything and he would love it, mainly because it was from her; a statement that had made Emily blush and feel that damn swelling again. Then the sound of little feet bounding down the stairs had echoed in Emily's ear. Neither Hotch nor Prentiss had really needed to look over to the threshold to see a sweater and jeans clad Jack entering the kitchen, especially when he had squealed Emily's name as if he hadn't seen her in a lifetime._

_"Aunt Em'ly!"_

_"Kiddo!" Prentiss had teased, mimicking his excitement. "What are you doing here?"_

_Jack hadn't wasted any time throwing his arms around Emily's neck, who had to kneel to be the approximate height to hug. "I live here, Aunt Em'ly!"_

_"Well one Hotchner ought to," her voice had been joking but out of the corner of her eye she could see Hotch rolling his eyes, not insulted but he hadn't missed the point of her comment either. "How you doin', Jackie? Ask for anything cool from Santa?"_

_The following minutes had mostly been a list of presents Jack wanted to receive, things he wanted to do with his father and aunt Jessica, and all the fun things he would get to do out in the snow since he had a winter break from "school". Aaron had held his tongue for most of the conversation, not wanting to ruin a moment where Jack wasn't thinking about how Christmas was going to work without his mother and was being social, something that had been harder after the death and funeral._

_"Well you can open your gift Christmas morning and tell me all about it, okay?" She had asked, preparing to end the conversation only because she had glimpsed at the clock and realized that she needed to get going despite how the idea of staying was appealing. "And I hope you've nice all year, kiddo."_

_Naturally, Jack had exclaimed that he had been nothing less than saintly before Emily laughed and bid her goodbye. Jack had headed back upstairs shortly afterwards._

_"I hope you enjoy your gift too, Hotch." Emily stated as she had headed towards the front door, still dressed in her winter getup. "Oh, if you're wondering about that other gift you can open it whenever you like."_

_"Two gifts?" Hotch hadn't wanted Prentiss throwing a lot of money away on Christmas gifts for he and Jack although the sentiment was touching. "I appreciate it, Prentiss, but it really isn't necessary."_

_For just a moment, Emily had a funny look on her face, not at him so much but something, that to the untrained eye, looked like nervousness._

_"One is for Haley."_

_The winter had sneaked in at the moment and froze both SSAs in their stances._

_"I didn't know what you'd think so, I don't know, I just thought-never mind." At a loss for words, Prentiss swiftly made her way to the doorknob, desperate to leave unscathed and with some dignity in tact unfortunately for the agent her hand had been tugged in the opposite direction. _

_Twisted backwards, Emily had felt her world-quite literally-spin as her body had found its way into Hotch's. Tightly, quickly and shamelessly, Aaron had held Emily to him in a most peculiar and lovely way. Her arms had wound around his neck, fallen down to his shoulders and eventually dropped limply at her sides when she had felt him beginning to move away. What had she done to deserve that? Whatever it had beens she had thought to do it again and as soon as possible._

_"Merry Christmas, Emily."_

_"Merry Christmas, Hotch."_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** *Pops champagne* I did it! The thirteenth chapter is officially finished! (:D) And right before July 1st, Canada Day, too :D.

**1.** I wasn't sure how I wanted to do the flashback sequence and at first I had a difficult time deciding how to incorporate Haley's death without bringing down the whole piece so I hope I did it some justice. Oh! And if anyone is wondering (which I doubt any of you are) the gift that Emily gave were a Transformer toy of some variety for Jack, a really awesome looking silver and black Decision Maker Desk Toy for Hotch, and a framed photograph of Hotch, Haley, and Jack that Garcia dug up because Garcia can find anything in the bowels of her computers (o.O).

**2.** Originally the interrogation was supposed to be interrupted by the team but that didn't make sense since Virgo (a fictional town, as far as I know) is like an hour away it wouldn't really make sense for them to show up like seven minutes later xD. Also this gave me the opportunity to delve even further in Zephyr's past and add a sob story because I'm angsty like that :P.

**3. **Yay for JJ-ness! I haven't the foggiest why but that scene makes me happy, perhaps because it feels like an episode format? Just the idea of more profiling instead of emotional involvement, you know? *Crickets blink in background* _Alriiiiighty _then... *scurries away*

**4.** I know, I know: why didn't Emily just do that flexibility bit earlier? Your answer: she just didn't. Bad reasoning, I'm aware, but it helped the story progress and added to the conflict of being shackled, besides maybe she was afraid she'd be punished for trying to escape? Not that she's really free since she's still chained at both the wrists and ankles, dark as that is (:/). But never mind that, dear readers! I'd like to know what you all thought and maybe what you would like to see in the upcoming chapter? Just call in with your suggestions! Our number is 555 Call Aly and operators are standing by ;D.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five, I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication: **For my muse, whom I only have three words to say to: knock it off.

**Date of Completion:** Friday July 16th 2010.

**Author's Comment: ***Peers back at the previous chapter* I just realized that I began the previous chapter as "Chapter Fourteen" which, clearly, is a mistake. You see children, this is what happens when we don't complete the self and peer edits. Other than that I would like to take a moment to truly express how awesome everyone is for reading and reviewing, which I know sounds totally lame but I really do appreciate it :D.

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**Chapter Fourteen. Backhanded Sympathy**

_"Your heart's bleedin' all over my shoes."_

_~ Odafin Tutola (SVU)_

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_

_10:50AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
The Abandoned Nolan Household_

It is hopeless, no matter what she does she is bound to be placed in a no win situation; she can stay or she can go and neither one will really work out that well for her. If she stays there is the definite chance of Zephyr coming back and prolonging turning her life into a living Hell but her other option of running away is pretty much out of the question namely because Emily doesn't know where her current location is, who she can go to for help, and how in the Hell she is going to get there if she is shackled at the ankles. And God forbid that she tries to make her way to a nearby house or some other form of civilization and Zephyr spots her first.

Tears prick Emily's eyes so hot that they burn her cheeks, and she can't help how humiliated she feels right now. Crying isn't going to do her any good, isn't going to change her situation at all, no, she is the one responsible for that. It was something that she had been raised believing; wanting something must be earned instead of given because otherwise it lacks personal development, growth, and experience. That is why Emily has a sore spot for when people claim that she didn't need to work to live because she had a successful, powerful, and wealthy family to take care of her. In fact that was quite the opposite her entire life. However this situation is not the same as being accepted to a University based on her own academic credentials, getting a job solely on her own merit, or making her own money instead of sponging up Mommy and Daddy's. But this time Emily realizes that if she wants to get out of here and live to see the son of a bitch who abducted her convicted the only thing in her way is herself.

"How am I supposed to free my feet?" She asks herself, drying her wet cheeks with the back of her palms while jiggling the chain that links her ankles to emphasize. "Zephyr wouldn't be stupid enough to leave a key or anything to free me just lying around, not if he wanted to keep me trapped."

Desperate to learn her surroundings, Emily makes short, shuffling movements with her feet, which is pretty much the only kind of motion she could make while braced by the ankles. The dark haired, dark eyed, supervisory special agent holds her breath as she inches towards a threshold, wondering what is on the other side. _Walking shouldn't be this difficult,_ Emily thinks bitterly as she makes her way to the cut out doorway. _Stupid, fucking handcuffs. _She curses mentally, clenching her jaw and thinking of every obscenity that she can in and in every language to boot, _just because she can._

Losing her balance, Emily vocalizes these thoughts.

She topples forward and lands on her stomach, her face slamming into the floor, as well as her ankles chaffing. Screaming doesn't seem to cover how much pain Emily is in currently, both physically as well as emotionally. Her nose feels broken but she isn't too sure however the rest of her is very sore, including her head, which is drunken and dizzy. The cuffs are still secure around her ankles and Emily shouts because it is all she can handle right about now. Confusion, pain, and exhaustion are weighing too heavily on her now and the last she can recall eating a square meal was before she had taken that bath and had been drugged again. How long ago was that, a day or more? The fact that she has no way of telling how much time as passed terrifies Prentiss and the unfamiliar atmosphere isn't helping to ease her anxiety much either.

"I can't do this." It's a negative way to think but she just can't help it. "I need help. Somebody help me!"

It is useless, stupid, and a waste of breath. No one can hear her. No one knows where she is.

"Somebody _please_ help me!" She cries out again. "Please, dear God, _somebody _help me! Help me!"

_Pathetic,_ Emily's mind spits at herself. _What a pathetic little girl._

"I want to go home!" It is shouted in vain, wasted on nothingness. "I want to be home!"

_You want to go home, hmm? Then get up and do something about it!_

"Someone? _Anyone!_ Help me, please help me!" Echoes amplify in her ears; Emily can hear the desperation between her sobs. Relentlessly, she continues, crying out until her voice scratches and her throat is aching.

_Help me! Save me! Please, oh please._

Her voice is mocking, abusive, acidic in her mind and Emily is actually _horrified _of how disgusted she sounds of herself, as if she is embarrassed and ashamed of who she is today and ultimately who she has become since she's been kidnapped. Then again, who wouldn't be? She allowed herself to be shackled, to be scared, and to play along. It is no wonder why Emily can feel the self-loathing knot in the pit of her stomach, the rage and depression battling inside of her head, and her limbs seizing uncontrollably, desperate to be free from their chains. Self-deprecation is easy, Emily accepts this much, especially when she is suffering through such a fragile state of mind.

"I want to be back home," she tells herself, her voice firm and factual. "I'm going home."

_Good for you!_ She sneers to herself even though there is something akin to support buried deep inside. _Now drag your sorry self out that front door and stumble all the fucking way home._

"I'm coming home," Emily doesn't need to say it with much fierceness this time because she isn't doing it to challenge herself, this time she is doing it for the right reasons. "I'm coming home."

_

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_

_11:25AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Virgo Police Department_

They must have broken every speed limit during their drive from Quantico to Virgo but with the lack of traffic in addition to the long and weaving roads that didn't see much use as Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and JJ approached the tiny town. There were few old homes scattering around the outskirts of the town, the lawns—if one could call them that—were thick with grass and even random wild flowers. The driveways were really just dirt paths that certainly weren't paved and obviously hadn't seen much use in a long while. Few cars were parked either in the grassy fields enclosed by thin, rustic wire or on the dusty winding pathways, making the whole place look practically barren. Driving past a green and white plastic sign that read "Welcome to Virgo" with the population printed below, a population that made their seven member team seem overpopulated. In the SUV, JJ had recapped her conversation with Detective Ben O'Conner for the three male agents and the group planned what they do when they got there.

But now, even though they knew from experience what to do in this situation, the agents can't help but feel completely out of control.

"Detective O'Conner?" The blonde liaison queries, gaining the attention of a thirty-something year old officer, sitting bent over a desk, his eyes trained on what looked like a case file. The officer lifts his chin up to see four strangers wearing FBI badges occupying the space around his desk.

"SSA Jennifer Jareau?" The way that Ben states it makes it so it doesn't sound much like a question but that's because it really isn't: he recognized the voice from over the phone. Ben is good with placing voices, although not so much at placing the emotions or subtleties in them. However, the officer is trying out polities today since "they are a nice way to make an introduction". For a second, he gives his attention to the remaining three agents, who are all men with none too pleased expressions on their faces but Ben is no position to criticize. Offering his hand a little reluctantly, Ben feels the attractive lady SSA take it and shake it; firm and feminine. Where can he find one of those? Ben barely listens as the lady agent introduces her three colleagues; he's too taken aback by how this woman is capable of shuffling emotions like they are a deck of cards; so many different faces.

"The FBI, huh?" Ben asks, the heels of his shoes clicking against the floor as he bounces against his will. "We don't see much of you guys around here."

An expression takes over JJ's face when she says that, "we're sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances." It looks as if she swallowed something sour when she expected sweet.

Swiftly, Ben shifts the conversation. "We think that we may have found the man you're looking for." He nods towards a door with a light bulb positioned beside the top of the threshold. It is lit up bright red and the agents are left assuming that the room is currently in use.

"Zephyr Nolan came into the station this morning for the first time in half a decade and confessed to murder." Ben shakes his head and looks to the interrogation room door. "Detective McMasterson is questioning him now and he suspects that Zephyr's psychotic."

This comes as no surprise to the team.

"We've also come to the conclusion of a psychotic break because of the similarities in his victims in comparison to his late wife," Derek chips in. "And he's clearly suffering from delusions if he believes that he killed his wife, although we do believe there is a victim at risk."

Ben cocks an eyebrow at the dark SSA.

"At risk? Zephyr claimed to have _murdered_ his wife, a woman who has been dead for a good six years; you recently sent out an email to all surrounding police departments concerning a missing agent that you suspect Zephyr has _abducted_, and your team believes that two other missing women that fit a similar type to the current missing agent are also victims of his but they have yet to be found. I don't want to be a pessimist here but I think it's in this missing woman's best interest if we treat as if she's dead when we speak to Zephyr."

Now in all of his years as a profiler, Dave Rossi understands where Detective O'Conner is coming from but when it's someone that he knows and someone that he cares for it is completely different.

"We work under the belief that the victim is alive until discovered otherwise." He states, trying to repress his frustration although his team can see that he is it doing a poor job of it.

"I understand that, Agent." Ben presses with his voice flat and his vision focused. "But Zephyr isn't going to talk to us about this woman being alive, he's going to be mourning her death and while Zephyr mourns he may feel the desire to confide information such as location, cause of death, etcetera."

None of the team really likes the sound of it, having to pretend as if Emily is dead, but more so the fact that it will likely do them the most good when interrogating Zephyr Nolan.

"I'd appreciate speaking to the Detective McMasterson," Hotch requests, his voice sounding as authoritative as ever. "And we would greatly value listening to the questioning, perhaps speak to Nolan ourselves with your superior's say-so, of course."

Ben nods and catches the attention of an older man with thinning black where speckled with gray, his face is ragged and worn, wearing his age and experience for the world to see. He is dressed in a charcoal suit and a wedding band. "Captain the FBI would like to speak to you."

The police captain rolls his eyes and quickly says goodbye to whomever he had been speaking to on the telephone. "O'Conner, you really have the best timing, don't you?"

Ben shrugs. "I'll go and get Brendan."

Turning to the FBI agents, the captain introduced himself as "Captain Callum Clarke" and expresses how honored he is to have the Behavioral Analysis Unit in his neck of the woods. Hotch quickly introduces the SSA's and soon enough the police captain and the team are collaborating, brainstorming, and bouncing ideas off of one another. However, this stops when a new presence is felt and everyone gives the detective their attention.

"An hour of questioning, badgering, and practically pleading Zephyr has accomplished having a minor meltdown, refusing to speak to me, and then admitting that there were previous victims in a roundabout way though."

Although everyone in the pre-cinct already knows that there were two other victims it helps that Zephyr has confessed to it.

"Agents, I would like you to meet one of our best detectives." Captain Clarke introduces Rossi, Hotch, JJ, and Morgan to the Irish detective. "Detective Brendan McMasterson."

"Eh," Brendan waves off the complimentary introduction but shakes each of their hands politely. "That's not saying much when we've only got four."

"Zephyr confessed to having other victims?" Hotch asks, not sure that he heard Detective McMasterson right the first time. "Did he disclose whether or not they're alive?"

Brendan sucks in a breath and forces himself to look directly at the agents even if it means they can see the concern in his eyes. They deserve to know since the missing woman _is_ one of their own.

"From what Zephyr has told me the best bet is that if she isn't dead she's very close to it."

Shock, horror, fear, pain, anger, and hurt take over the SSAs' faces and it cuts Brendan too deep. He doesn't want what he just said to be the truth but he hopes that in a roundabout way, this will motivate everyone further and that this will ultimately help rather than hinder.

"I'm telling you this because I want to stress how very important this is and that we are willing to do whatever it takes to find your friend."

A thick, uncomfortable silence suffocates the air and it is Captain Clarke who steps in, offering the interrogation room to the BAU agents and gives brief instruction to Brendan to make sure everything ran smoothly.

"SSA Hotchner," Brendan begins. "Would you like to conduct the questioning? I'd just like to sit in because I have a feeling Zephyr will be more willing to speak if I'm there. We uhm, kind of have a history."

Hotch simply nods and walks towards the door with the red light bulb, leaving everyone to follow his lead.

* * *

_11:29AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Virgo, Virginia, USA_

Emily has been wandering for what feels like a millennium but is likely a half an hour or even less. Stumbling stupidly, the SSA had maneuvered her way to the front door of the house, something that had-thankfully and unbelievably-been unlocked. The next part had been much harder but Emily had proven herself, to herself and to whoever thought she gave up. A steep dirt pathway made a driveway and Emily had been so grateful that she was dressed in shoes as well as socks, which made everything a whole lot easier. Nonetheless, Emily had struggled and fallen many times before reaching the end of the "driveway", met with the reality that any neighbors, if there were any, would be far and few in between. At the moment, the raven-haired agent is almost tiptoeing down the unpaved road, looking into the distance where she sees something resembling a rickety old home.

With each step Emily can feel her ankles hurting and being rubbed raw, the pain of which is a breath from unbearable.

While Emily takes baby-steps she fills her mind with memories; happy and sad. She pictures the smiling faces of her friends, her family. They're all laughing and teasing and are oh-so sweet and simple that it brings a smile to her face. Emily can see everything from the bright colours that make up Garcia's wardrobe to the glimmer of amusement in her dark friend's eyes when he calls her "Princess". Images of a genuinely grinning JJ splash across Emily's mind accompanied by satire comments from the mouth of one Dave Rossi. There is Reid, awkward and adorable, stumbling over himself despite his complete self-confidence in the academic field. _I love you._ Emily thinks, referring to them all as individuals and a team. _I love you all so much._

A shiver, quick as a blink, is there and gone but leaves a gorgeous imprint on the forefront of Emily's brain. Aaron Hotchner, neat and orderly, the epitome of professionalism, standing tall and confidant as a solider. His hair dark matching his eyes, ones that make Emily reconsider Catholicism all together if only so she can convert to him. Emily is enamored with everything that Hotch has to offer especially since he possess the one thing that Emily has yet to out grow; a man in uniform. Growing up surrounded by politicians and VIPs had both fascinated and frustrated Emily, however, when it came to dressing up she was a fool in love, willing to jump head first despite everything and everyone telling her otherwise. She can still see his barely concealed dimples, the bags under his eyes, and the pride and strength that only come with the experience of accomplishing worthwhile.

_Oh, I miss you._ Her mind whispers, softer than it had been before. Haunted, chilling, nostalgic. _I miss you._

The image dissolves and Emily is left with a heart that is both still and racing too quickly in her chest. A new, fresh picture takes over. Hotch is smiling, his joy touching his cheeks and even going as far as to reach his eyes, so innocent and carefree that Emily cannot believe it is actually him. Next in the mental slideshow is Hotch in bed beside her, dead to the world, his mouth only slightly open releasing deep breaths. It was those moments that she committed to memory, cataloging them for later use. Some may consider it "creepy" or oppositely "romantic", however Emily had simply seen it as if she were an artist, admiring a marvel of nature. It was not often that she was in the company of a man, at least not after hours in a bed where sheets were being shredded and the mattress dipping and diving. Watching Hotch, no matter how briefly or in what context had never ceased to amaze Emily. In fact she is now mentally retracing the lines of his placid face, the bumps that were his limbs beneath the comforter that they shared, as well as the rise and fall of his chest, scarily more intense in the instances that he suffered through a nightmare. But Emily couldn't and wouldn't complain because she knew she was just as obvious, that Hotch had seen her tossing and turning in fits of bad dreams.

Emily wonders where Renée and the children are and what happened after Zephyr took off with her. Did they go to the police? Did the police come to them? Of course that would imply that the police know she is missing and if the police knows that Emily is missing than the team is working on her case, a realization that makes Emily want to smile although she can't at the moment namely because everything is hurting too much. _Then again, _the dark haired agent thinks in a bittersweet voice, _if the team is looking than have they spoken to them yet?_ It is wrong how she feels, Emily can understand that much, what she cannot comprehend is _why_ she feels the way she does. There is no way that she has bonded with the Nolan family, on any level whatsoever, or so Emily tells herself. What good would it do her anyway? To become emotionally connected to anyone in that household would not only be naive and stupid but also dangerous and pointless since the FBI agent _knows _just how much trouble that family is already in. If Emily allows her judgment to become clouded with the pity and-God forbid-_relationship_ that she has forged with the Nolan's then Emily turns into a willful participant in the fantasy that Zephyr Nolan as made for himself. It would also mean that what happened to her or rather what _is_ _happening _is something that Emily _wants _rather than something that she is a victim of and if she wants it than Zephyr has been justified in everything that he has done _to_ and _for _her this entire time.

* * *

_11:32AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Virgo Police Department_

"Zephyr, I'd like you to meet Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Brendan introduces, waving his hand over the man dressed in a suit wearing a serious expression that hardens his entire face. "He would like to speak to you about Temperance."

_Emily._ Hotch silently corrects. _I want to talk about Emily._

Brendan offers Hotch the seat opposite of Zephyr and stands off to the side, as if he is only a spectator. The tension between Zephyr and Hotch is abundant and hard to see past, a magnetic force that draws in the attention of everyone who is watching, it is intensified by the powerful eye contact that the two men maintain, daring the other to blink first. Sighing, bored, Zephyr doesn't blink but he does speak: "Behavioral Analysis Unit, huh? What exactly do you do?"

"We're part of the FBI," Hotch begins to explain, defrosting evidently but nonetheless intimidating. "We study crimes such as murders, rapes, and arsons. Our job is to study and analyze types of crimes, the actual crime scenes, living and deceased victims, and other important factors so that we can find the person responsible."

Swallowing this information, Zephyr looks mildly confused and intrigued. "Then why are you here? Virgo isn't exactly known for violent crimes."

"My team and I have come here because a man fitting your description is responsible for the abduction and murder of two other women that show numerous similarities to a third missing woman."

Not that the FBI or the police have any _real_ forensic evidence that the person who abducted Alana Dayley also took Jamie Kent, nor do they have any actual proof that the two women are dead since neither body has been discovered as of yet. Now try adding Emily Prentiss to the mix. Hotch knows that all they have so far is a really good profile of two Unsubs in a close relationship, one of which suits the personality of Renée Nolan and the relationship that she has with her older brother Zephyr. They also have Phoenix and Andrea Nolan in their custody, one of which admits that the home life wasn't always that happy and that his father was never the same after Temperance Nolan's death. But putting Zephyr's fingerprints in the system and not finding any matches doesn't help any. Sure, Rossi and Morgan had got some information out of Colin Dayley, information that could lead to Zephyr Nolan but that wasn't going to prove Zephyr guilty since Colin's mother had been reported missing_years_ ago and the boy couldn't recall anything that pointed to Zephyr directly. However, they now have Zephyr Nolan confessing to murder, although it is of his late wife who had died six years ago due to natural causes making his claims false.

"And you think that _I _have something to do with two missing women?" Zephyr asks it like he is truly amazed that he would have anything to do with the abductions and deaths.

Hotch takes a breath and counts back from five backwards, too impatient to begin at ten. "Detective McMasterson tells me that you admit there were women in the last few years."

Zephyr deflates when he hears this, seemingly ashamed of what the profiler as just said, of what Hotch has just implied. "They were the wrong women but they had seemed so much like her at the time that I was so tempted to believe them but in the end I had been misguided."

"Misguided?"

What was Zephyr suppose to say? Was he expected to admit that he had become desperate, helpless even, without his Temperance? Did this FBI agent want Zephyr to confess that he was never quite the same after Temperance left and that the loneliness and the heartache had become too much too often so he turned to women who caught his eye, to women he could supplement his wife for? How is this man, or any person for that matter, able to understand how Zephyr was feeling? Yes, Zephyr had been with women after Temperance left but each time he believed them to be her and the second that Zephyr had realized that he was wrong about the women he had let them go.

"Have you ever been with someone who is so much like person who left that you can't help but feel like you're right back there again?"

When Zephyr says this it is obvious that he means it romantically; to be with a person that is so much like the one that you loved and lost that they feel like the real thing rather than the substitute. And Hotch may be tempted to believe Zephyr especially when he remembers Kate Joyner or even Jessica, the shiny blonde hair and even their facial features, things that had subconsciously reminded him of Haley. Then there was the steadfast patience that the women had for him when Hotch put one hundred percent into a case and got so wrapped up, as well as how neither one of them was any good at telling him what to do. But those relationships hadn't been nearly as intimate as the one that he and Emily shared and that was despite the fact that he and Prentiss weren't in a romantic relationship. They had shared a bed on more than one occasion, they worked together for-what was it?-four years before that, and had first met when Hotch was assigned to work for her mother long before that. And although Hotch did have his concerns that he was using Emily as a way to cope with losing Haley as well as Jack to a degree before, Hotch also knew that being with Emily Prentiss, both professionally as well as in his personal life, was an experience that he couldn't quite compare to anyone or thing else.

Besides is it really replacement if they have been there all along?

"So you're saying that the first two women-and there were two women," Hotch makes sure to point out and emphasize with actual photographs of the Alana and Jamie. "Were women that you have met before?"

Embarrassed and maybe a little guilt-ridden, Zephyr looks at the pictures for no longer than necessary and brings his attention back to Hotch.

"Yes, I knew these women."

"Socially?" Hotch queries but Zephyr seems confused so the SSA uses archived tricks from his days as a prosecutor and rephrases. "Did you meet these women through any restaurants you both frequented, stores you liked to shop at, public places like parks or walking paths?"

Zephyr pauses for only a moment taps his shoes on the floor rhythmically. "Temperance liked to go on walks to clear her head, she said it was like a therapy for her without having to actually talk to anyone. I was always a jogger but Tempe preferred to walk."

Alana Dayley had last been seen by her husband and son before she had left to go jogging on evening.

"Do you remember first seeing her?" Hotch touches the glossy photograph of Alana Dayley. "Do you remember what had attracted you to her?"

Eyes closed and breath caught, Zephyr falls back into the memory. "She looked just like Temperance and when I saw her for the first time I couldn't believe my eyes so I followed her in her car and felt so wrong doing it but I wasn't the one who left without a word and I just really wanted to see her again."

Biting his tongue, Hotch keeps his accusations of stalking at bay in favour of allowing Zephyr to continue, effectively shielding the boiling rage he is feeling from showing on the surface.

"So I followed her back to this little house with a man playing with a boy in the front lawn; the two of them were jumping into these piles of leaves taller than the kid. And at the time all I could think was '_this is what she ran away to?'_ and I just couldn't believe it. So I burnt that address into my memory and kept coming back until I was so convinced that she was my Temperance that I knew it was okay to approach her."

Approach or attack?

"And what did you do when you approached her?" Hotch asks without personalizing the question with the victim's proper name. He doesn't bother because he knows that Zephyr sees his victims only as a make-shift Temperance rather than individual women with their own lives, personalities, as well as identities.

"At first it was small things like _hello_ and _how are you_ and it was like falling back into an old habit. I was so glad that Temperance was making an effort to be apart of my life again that later on, when I mentioned coming home, she froze up and I hadn't understood. It was as if she was _against_ being with me and when I brought up our son she became so distraught."

A shiver runs down Zephyr's spine leaving him tingling and feeling awkward in his own skin. When was the last time he's felt like this? The first time he kissed a girl? Inching through puberty? The moment that rejection slapped him hard across the face when that _woman _proved that she was nothing more than a fraud; a distorted image of Zephyr's beloved wife.

"She said to '_leave her son alone'_ and_ 'I don't know who you are'._ I couldn't help it and I'd never done it before but I grabbed for her and then we-we-fought." It comes out ghostly and a little heart-broken, as if Zephyr himself can't handle what he is admitting to. Maybe he can't? Maybe that's why he hid Alana away for so long.

"You fought and what happened next?" Aaron presses, needing to know if Zephyr is the kind of man who would fight until she bled or if he was at all compassionate and if not just for Alana and Jamie's sake but for Emily's.

Zephyr looks right through Aaron and falls silent. Non-confrontational, black and white, stating a fact with no room for a second opinion. "I brought her home where Temperance belonged."

* * *

_9:12PM  
Saturday December 19th 2010  
The Hotchner Household_

_"You really should be getting some rest." Hotch told his friend who had been bent over the couch, an icepack against her head._

_"And you really should be getting it through your head by now that I'm fine." Prentiss remarked from the couch that she had been thrown over at the time. "Sir," she had added sweetly and it had succeeded to get a half smile out of her superior._

_The case had been tougher than others, specifically for Emily who had been a victim herself to a degree. After she witnessed a murder and was hospitalized, Hotch had wanted her to slow down rather than head-dive back into the case, however she had proven herself incredibly useful as well as strong enough—both physically and emotionally—to handle the case. Nonetheless, Emily still had to recover and she had rejected the idea of taking any time off, unfortunately for the feisty SSA, she wasn't in charge and Hotch had sent her home the instant the jet landed. From what Emily had told him, she had gone home, drew a bath, took her prescribed painkillers, and fell asleep after watching Die Hard. Hearing that Prentiss had chosen to take it easy pleased her superior very much so, that is until she had informed him that she went for her daily jog the next morning and then met up with a few friends for lunch and some mid-day shopping. Of course, Emily had appreciated the concern from her coworkers as well as the friends that she had been with earlier that day but frankly it was beginning to frustrate her._

_The same thought had been running through her head all day: when will everybody stop treating me like a child?_

_Actually that was what had led her to Aaron Hotchner's home in the first place._

_"Painkillers alone a recovery does not make." He had placed a glass of icy cold water in Emily's hand. "But it does help."_

_"Backwards speaking makes you Yoda not." She had replied, deadpan as ever, but she had taken the glass and the small white pills from Hotch anyway._

_From somewhere behind the agents, a small voice had entered the conversation. "Star Wars?"_

_Together, Aaron and Emily had turned their attention to the little boy dressed in pyjamas, standing in the doorway. "That's right, buddy." Hotch he stated as he walked over to his son and lifted him into his arms. "Prentiss here thinks that I'm speaking like Yoda."_

_With an expression that only children under the age of six can master, Jack Hotchner had blinked at the two adults and stated very matter-of-factly that Darth Maul and R2D2 were what made the entire first episode. Aaron had looked at his son with poorly veiled expression of surprise and Emily had simply laughed outright. "Right you are, kiddo."_

_It had taken some effort on the lady's part but she managed to get up from her unbelievably comfortable spot on the piece of furniture. "I think that your dad has The Force." Her stage whisper had been totally lame but that hadn't stopped Jack from giggling in response. Emily's fingers had run through the young boy's hair as she made her way to the kitchen to put away the then empty glass._

_"Uh-huh," Hotch had agreed for Jack but then had added. "And you're Natalie Portman."_

_Emily had returned from the kitchen this time with an apple in hand. "You're kidding right? I'd much rather be Obi-Wan Kanobi."_

_"Prentiss Leah!" Jack had enthusiastically cast his vote causing Emily to choke on a bite of her apple and Aaron to laugh._

_"I think you mean 'Princess Leia', buddy."_

_The sudden and glorious image of Emily Prentiss clad in the famous Princess Leia costume had flashed through Aaron's mind and dissolved just as Emily came back with, "yeah, I hear metal bathing suits are in this season."_

_Aaron had only feigned ignorant and claimed that he hadn't "a clue what you're talking of" and the whole act had Jack cracking up._

_"Well if I'm Princess Leah," her head had nodded towards the four-year-old when she said that. "Then you've got to be Darth Vader."_

_It had been an obvious response but Hotch had been raised both eyebrows in question while Jack used his palms to muffle his laughter._

_"That would make me your father." Aaron had pointed out. "Besides, I'd also be the bad guy."_

_"Vader is cool, Dad." Jack stated with all the seriousness of a four year old with the encouragement of Emily, who had been nodding along in agreement._

_Shortly there after, a "Luke, I am your father" comment had been made, complete with the proper voice and straight face; the straight face hadn't lasted very long though and laughter had flooded the room. The whole goofy, playful, and down right strange conversation had effectively taken the attention off of Emily and shifted it to the silly side of Aaron Hotchner that had a habit of hiding away for months at a time, practically hibernating. It had been exhilarating for Aaron to let go, to be able to release the baggage and tension that the agent carried with him in the bags under his eyes and the indentations of his half-frowning face. He had been so carefree, in fact, that Aaron had failed to notice Emily clutching her head and barely concealing her pain, that is until his son had brought it back to his attention._

_"You okay, Aunt Em'ly?" The little boy had queried, his voice surprisingly strong rather than scared, his eyes shifting from confused to concerned with too much ease. Emily had shaken off the young boy's worried gaze, his arms that had been aching to touch the part of her that had been hurting, as well as his father's expressed concern._

_"I'm fine, honey." Emily had said it convincingly, confidently, commandingly but Jack Hotchner had been a four-year-old and not stupid. "Really Hotch." Prentiss had added, addressing her friend, the one that had stood rigidly and maintained his "Now how about the truth?" expression._

_Had Aaron really thought that would work?_

_'Jerk.' Emily had thought at the time. 'It is.'_

_"Hey, why aren't you asleep, kiddo?" Sure, it had been deflection but who cared?_

_Jack hadn't even blinked. "I had to go to the bathroom."_

_'Yeah' Emily had spoken to herself. 'But that doesn't really explain why you're down here.'_

_But it hadn't really mattered to Emily that Jack was awake, just that he and his father were teaming up against her._

_"Maybe we should all be getting to bed." Hotch had suggested it and neither Jack nor Emily had even bothered to argue otherwise._

_With his son in his arms, Aaron had carried Jack up the stairs while Emily had double checked that the doors and windows were locked before turning off the lights before heading upstairs herself. Once she had reached the top of the staircase and moved to turn around the corner, Emily had been stopped by a little voice muffled by blankets, almost complete darkness and a half opened bedroom door._

_"Why do I call Aunt Em'ly, Aunt Em'ly?" Jack had asked his father whilst being tucked into his little bed._

_"Because it's her name, that's why." Hotch had replied, obviously not putting much thought into the Q&A session between he and his son._

_"But you call her 'Prentiss' not Emily." What Jack had said was truthful but that didn't mean that it had made any more sense to Hotch._

_From her place against the corner of the hallway wall, Emily had been watching the exchange, feeling much like an out of place interloper. It was always a strange sensation for Emily to hear her name in reference rather than as if she were an active part of a conversation. In fact it often reminded Emily of her of her parents relationships with others when they brought up her name. "Oh Emily loved Spain!" "Yes, Emily certainly enjoys her all the extracurriculars new school has to offer." "Of course Emily would love to attend the banquet and would it be alright for her to bring a date? Yes, her boyfriend." It had always been interesting for Emily to hear what people thought of her honestly but also an odd feeling to be invisible._

_"Well that's because she isn't my aunt." Aaron had pointed out, busying himself with smoothing the blanket and tugging into place. "Like Aunt Jessica."_

_"S'Aunt Em'ly your sister?" Of course the four-year-old had meant that since Jessica was Haley's sister it would make sense that he would associate aunts as just sister's of a parent but Emily had felt a weird a twist in the pit of her stomach, something that she could have only named "incest" despite her lack of sexual or romantic relationship with Aaron Hotchner._

_Aaron had stilled. "She isn't my sister; she's a friend."_

_A friend. Wow. It had be an exhilarating experience for Emily to hear the word fall from Hotch's lips in reference to her, as embarrassing as that is._

_"S'at why she sleepovers?" Emily could hear the curiosity in Jack's voice despite his tiredness at the time and Emily had subconsciously stilled._

_"You know how sometimes you want to sleep in my bed instead of just yours?" Aaron had queried but quiet enough for Emily to had strain to listen. "Well it's like that for me but with your Aunt Emily, plus she loves to see you."_

___Had he heard the breath that Emily had expelled? Was that why Hotch had stopped? Emily held her breath and tried for invisibility._  


_So easily satisfied, Jack had replied, "goodnight Daddy."_

_"Goodnight, buddy." Hotch had responded, kissing the boy's forehead and flicking off the side lamp._

_When he had left his son's bedroom-the door half shut behind him-Hotch turned to see his friend and fellow SSA attempting to sink into the wall._

_"How's your head?" He had asked, refusing to pretend Emily was actually capable of disappearing._

_She had shrugged, touched her head where it hurt, and replied, "good."_

_"You're usually a better liar than that." It had been a valid point that Aaron had made as he entered his bedroom, knowing that Emily was on his heels._

_"Maybe I'm feeling less deceptive than usual?" Emily had asked rhetorically whilst simultaneously grabbing her pajamas so she could change in the bathroom. "Or I'm concussed."_

_Aaron hadn't bothered to look at Emily as she passed him on her way to the bathroom yet he responded nonetheless. "I just want you to get better."_

_Paused about two feet away from the hallway, Emily had turned to face the back of her superior and replied confidently. "Trust me; the feeling is mutual."_

_

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**Author's Note:** Questions, comments, concerns? And yes, as you can, that Emily is finding a way out and that Zephyr is being puzzled out. I hope that this makes a proper segue into the end of this story although I did claim (prematurely) that it would be ending sooner than it is. You're welcome ;). Kidding, loves, I appreciate all of you have been keeping up with my sporadic updating for you are wonderful and patient people :).

Have a lovely day! CSIAly :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication: **For people who know too many trivial facts to be human. You're awesome ;).

**Author's Comment:** *Swings door open* Honey!_ I'm hooome! _And I do mean that literally since I have just arrived home from vacation that included having no computer and only two non-static television channels, I know, it was great ;). But my trip also gave me some time to think about my stories and of course that meant as soon as I was unpacked I was wrapping up this chapter so that it could finally be updated :). I hope that you all enjoy this next installment :3.

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**Chapter Fifteen. Light in the Darkness.**

_"The light is always here but it must be revealed to us who identify with darkness."  
_

_~ Author Unknown_

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_11:45AM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Virgo, Virginia, USA_

"You're doin' great, kiddo."

Perry rolls her eyes thinking that this was stupid because of course she was doing fine, after all she has had her learner's permit for _weeks_ now and passed her written exam with flying colours. Her father, however, seems to think that Perry, being seventeen years old, knows absolutely nothing about driving. Thus the constant nattering of reminding her to adjust her mirrors, seatbelt, and remembering how to parallel park properly. She doesn't see the point in her father breathing down her neck while she's driving; isn't the point to get her to become _relaxed_ while driving? Someone should inform her father of that.

"You need to calm down, Dad." Perry states as she makes a left turn. "I know what I'm doing."

"You're seventeen, Pear; you know squat." Her father replies jokingly, shaking his head and turning down the music on the radio, claiming that it is too distracting to play music and learn how to drive at the same time.

Perry rolls her jade eyes again and picks up the speed, trying to tune out her father's paranoia of her driving. What does he think she's going to do anyway; nick another car while trying to merge lanes or get busted by the cops for speeding? It's Virgo for Christsakes; it's considered traffic when there are four or more cars on the same street. In fact it amazes Perry how the police department has enough to do considering what an underpopulated, uninteresting, and ultimately unadventurous town they inhabited. The real reason why Perry wanted to get her license so badly was so that she could get out of town every once and a while without having to bike or walk. Like most of the teenagers in town Perry is willing to do just about _anything _to escape Virgo—Middle of Nowhere—Virginia.

"Hey, do you see that?" Something far ahead of them catches Perry's eye but it is there all the same.

Rolling his eyes, Perry's father slips on his wire rim prescription glasses that are everything but fashionable. "What? The nothingness? Yup, they put it in a few months ago."

"Very clever, Dad. It looks like a person."

The road is deserted of any other cars but there are a few older houses scattered on both sides and vehicles parked in some of the unpaved driveways. It wouldn't seem out of place for there to people around, despite the teenager's exaggeration of how few people populated the admittedly small town of Virgo. Interest piqued, Perry applies more pressure to the gas pedal and focuses as she drives, ignoring her father's requests to "slow down" in case it actually is a person because he doesn't want them to be afraid that they are going to be on the receiving end of the vehicle's front bumper. Perry barely conceals a scoff. Once they are close enough for Perry to see what—or who—is on the side of the road she doesn't hesitate to honk her horn loudly and repeatedly.

"Perry, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Her father demands as his teenage daughter turned maniac driver as she slams on the breaks.

"It's a woman, Dad!"

"Your poi—"

But Perry has already jumped out of the driver's side of the vehicle and is hurrying down the dirt road, leaving her father behind in the car, staring from his spot in the passenger seat.

"Hey you—" Perry called out. "Hey, Miss! Miss!"

The woman looks up in surprise and Perry feels herself stopping dead in her tracks; this certainly hadn't been what the teenager was expecting when her father had offered to let her drive this morning. Bloodied and bruised, the woman looks like a disaster and that's putting it _lightly._ Perry flicks her strawberry blonde bangs from her face so that she can get a better look.

"Oh my gosh; what _happened?"_

Perry doesn't mean to sound as shocked as she obviously is but she can't help her gasp of surprise when she sees how the woman's hair is a complete mess, how her face is oh-so pallor, and how her clothing is dirty and torn in some places. Although are no obvious bruises or cuts on the woman's face there are faint marks around her neck, as if something had been wrapped around her rather tightly. The fact that this woman is also bound at the wrists and ankles screams trouble in Perry's mind.

"I-I work for the FBI," the woman responds, managing to find her voice. "We need to call the police."

Gently, Perry takes the woman's wrists in her hands, forcing eye contact. "What happened?"

The look of pure and undeniable sadness and anguish that register in this woman's eyes makes Perry feels as if she is going to be physically ill. She swallows and listens as this dark haired, dark eyed woman tells her about a man who lives in a world of fantasy and abducts women to replace the woman that he loved. Attentively, the teenager absorbs the woman's distraught voice and the horrible things she claims that this man does: abuse and manipulate people with misplaced anger and hurt. No details are shared but Perry thinks that she may prefer it that way, especially by the way this woman seems to be falling apart with each admission. Smiling half-heartedly, the teenager leads the older woman back to the vehicle and lets her slide in first. Once they're in the seats, Perry takes care to pull the seatbelt over the woman's chest and a pang of guilt strikes the young woman when she realizes how condescending that act may seem to the lady whom Perry is only trying to help. If she tried, the lady could, despite her binds, be able to buckle her own seatbelt but it hadn't even occurred to Perry because all she could think about was making it easier for this woman. Shrugging her thoughts off, Perry turns to her father and speaks with an authority.

"Dad, we need to get her some help." It isn't a request and Perry has every intention of getting behind the wheel and driving this woman to the nearest safe place.

"Of course," he doesn't argue but he does slide from the passenger seat to the driver's while his daughter helps the exhausted and battered woman into the backseat of their car, taking the seat beside her and placing her hand on the woman's knee comfortingly.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" He asks kindly, looking at the woman through his rear-view mirror; lifting her head at the question, the woman reveals her neck and he tries desperately not to stare so blatantly at the rings that mare her.

The woman pauses for a moment before answering, "Emily. Uhm, SSA Emily Prentiss."

"I'm Rich Balm and that's my daughter Perry you're sitting next to."

They don't look at all alike, the two of them, Rich and Perry. Rich, for instance, has thick and dark brown hair very similar to Emily's, whereas young Perry had long and thin strawberry blonde locks. Another thing were their eyes; Perry's a gorgeous shade of green unlike Rich's brilliant azure. Although both father and daughter are currently sitting one can tell that Rich is a man with an incredible stature that made him stand beyond six feet, contrasting with his daughter's height of five feet and three inches. As Emily glances between the father and daughter she cannot spot a single similarity until she stops looking for genetic hallmarks but instead notices the grimace that digs into dimples they both have, the slight worried furrowing of eyebrows, and the concerned expression that can be seen in both of their eyes.

"You work for the FBI, don't you?" Perry asks and Emily notices that her hand is being held. Nodding feebly, Emily wants to find her voice but she figures it might take a while. It has been so long since someone has been genuinely gentle with her, at least days and maybe even weeks.

"Yeah, I'm an agent. I uh, I profile criminals."

It feels like a weak answer in Emily's mind, as if she isn't confident that is her job, as if she is very confident of anything. Where was the Prentiss that stared down serial killers and rapists, telling them that they're going to pay for the actions? Where was the FBI agent that could get a confession or a break in the case after five minutes in an interrogation room? Where was the woman that looked victims (survivors) right in the eye and assured them every time that she and her team would put one hundred and ten percent into finding some justice, no matter how little it seemed at the time? Where was the independent and grown up Emily who knew how to take herself? Emily feels out of place with her body at the moment, a body that is riddled with all new war wounds and is bound.

"Is there anyone that you want us to call?" Perry reaches into her pocket and removes a green slide cell-phone.

Emily looks at her somewhat wearily and then down at her own hands. "We should go to the police first."

"Don't worry, we're on our way." It isn't much but it does lift Emily's spirit slightly. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to anyone?"

Of course Emily _wants_ to but she doesn't know if she can, she wouldn't know what to say.

"7-0-3," Emily recalls from memory and watches as Perry's bright pink fingernails tap away at the phone's keyboard. "7-7-3-6-2-3-7."

For a moment the whole vehicle is quiet but it is broken by Perry's whispering voice. "It's ringing."

* * *

_11:52AM__  
__Thursday March 25th 2010__  
__Quantico Police Department_

Dr Spencer Reid, a highly qualified profiler and certified genius, has been wasting away his morning baby-sitting Phoenix and Andrea Nolan for what felt like _forever_. Personally the young genius feels as if he would be _much_ more useful if he was doing something like a geographic profile or interviewing Zephyr Nolan like Reid's liaison friend had informed him that Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch are currently conducting. It isn't as if Reid doesn't like working with children or that he doesn't think that his assigned task is all that important, he is just painfully aware of how awkward he is when it comes to social interactions and having to subtly question two children who haven't even reached puberty and how it is all a bit frustrating for him. Reid wants to coax answers out of Phoenix and Andrea but he isn't sure just_ how_ to approach them considering the circumstances; their father being questioned as well as them not being able to see their aunt.

So this leaves the three of them in one of the children's room in the precinct that is painted with cheery pastel colours, equipped with big pieces of comfortable furniture, and decorated with all sorts of plushy pillows and blankets. At the moment Andrea is playing with a couple of dolls in a toy house. One mother figure is in the kitchen while another is in one of the beds, a little boy is taking a bath, and the pet dog is on the roof for some reason unknown to the young genius. Spencer has to give Andrea kudos for her outside the box thinking since not many five year olds think to have an interracial and apparently same-sex couple raise a child. Looking over to check on Phoenix, who had been keeping to himself unless spoken to directly and even then his answers were short, Reid notes that the young boy is flipping through a parenting magazine since Phoenix has already finished the age appropriate ones. Earlier, Spencer had tried opening up conversation with both the Nolan children, suggesting that they work on an activity together or something of the like but Phoenix had been firm with his desire to be left alone unless there were other children his age to play with or the opportunity to see either his father or aunt. Andrea, on the other hand, set her sights on the doll house the moment they had stepped into the room and was soon completely engaged with the fictional lives of her plastic household.

"No father?" Reid asks while kneeling beside the house that Andrea is playing with.

"He's at work." Andrea answers as she grabs the adult male toy dressed in the business suit and places him in the car only to push it in the opposite direction.

_Two mothers and a father? Surely this little girl doesn't understand polygyny, does she? Maybe one's a sister?_

The thought comes and goes through Spencer's mind quickly before Andrea has a chance to explain herself, not that she appears to register the surprised tone in Spencer's voice nor the combination of curiosity and disbelief etching over his face. It seems as though Andrea Nolan is just as inept as Reid himself when it comes to comprehending social cues and emotions on others' faces. Smartly, Reid opts not to press the father in the scenario and instead turns his attention to the two women.

"Two mommies?"

Andrea doesn't blink as she continues to play with the dog on the roof. "One's sleeping."

"And the other one is making lunch?"

Of course Spencer is referring to the female doll that is standing at the kitchen sink, wearing two different shoes and a dotted dress that is strapped together by Velcro. He watches with a keen eye as Andrea moves the doll around the kitchen without folding or unfolding any of her limbs to make her movements at all realistic. Maybe Reid's literalism is why he never found enjoyment with playing with action figures as a child, that and their non-interactions with him were just as superficial as the ones that he had shared with his peers; plastic and one-sided. Besides, books were always more satisfying, both intellectually and emotionally.

"Yeah, she cooks and cleans and Daddy loves her the most."

Now_ that_ certainly catches Reid's attention. "Really? How do you know?"

"Because he never yells at her cept' once." It makes Reid a little nervous to hear how easily and matter-of-fact this five-year-old could say that.

How is that for a shift in atmosphere? Suddenly the moment from carefree child has changed into something more tense, riddled with angst and awkwardness, at least on Spencer's side.

Spencer speaks so softly as he watches this little girl's face fall from amused to something akin to distaste. "Why did he yell at her?"

"Coz' he was mad." Had Andrea intended to sound so_ "uh-duh" _when she said that or is Reid just imagining it?

"So he yelled at her? That wasn't very nice of him."

Bending the tiny arms of the male doll at the joints just slightly, Andrea places the hands on one of the female doll's shoulders. Pushing the head of the female back, the five year old adjusts the "mommy" figure's knees so that they are bowing beneath herself and then makes a jerking movement with her hands. In the corner of his eye, Reid can see that Phoenix has moved on from reading magazines and is instead molding Play-Doh with his hands and flattening it over the table so that he can draw designs in it with the writing end of a pencil. Once he is finished with that, Phoenix rolls the Play-Doh into sculpted pieces of scenery together, all the while in his own little world.

"What's the daddy doing now?"

Spencer evens his voice, firm but still soft, whilst Andrea looks so far away. Again and again Andrea jerks the dolls until the female is falling from her grasp on to the blue shag rug that is crunched beneath their knees.

"Is he hurting the mommy?"

No answer, just complete and utter silence.

"Andrea?"

Nothing. Notta. Zilch.

"Is he hurting her?"

Stillness.

_"Andrea?"_

Total unresponsiveness.

"What is _happening _to her?"

And now, of all times, Reid's cellphone chirps to life.

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_12:03PM__  
__Thursday March 25th 2010__  
____BAU, Quantico, Virginia_

Triangulating the cellphone had been the easy part; everything else was difficult.

Penelope Garcia is probably (and who were they kidding?) the best technical analyst that the FBI has on staff. A skilled and seasoned computer hacker, Garcia could dig into personal files and Internet histories and discover the fossils that people liked to believe they had buried years ago. In fact, Penelope has enough blackmail material to ensure that her position on the Behavioral Analysis Unit remains completely secure and to revel in the perks that come along with being the most lethal TA known to the United States government: her own _personal_ coffee machine. So when the fabulously flamboyant woman receives a phone call from her favourite socially awkward supervisory special agent she is expecting a few elaborate demands on short notice or to be told that she's going to be sent crime scene photographs that put Sweeney Todd to shame. Instead, Reid simply gives the unconventional techie a cellphone number to track down and a breathy explanation, one that claims Emily Prentiss is not only alive but safe as well; apparently even on her way to the nearest medical center, one that Penelope had located in a bat of her mascara layered lashes. Garcia had shot the address of the emergency care center off to the good doctor and sent a mental thanks to whoever may be dictating the universe at the time for Reid's perfect memory.

But it was all still so un-_flipping_-believable, right?

Good news right? Of course! The only downside being that Garcia is left feeling totally helpless, stuck in front of her many screens and monitors, unable to be by her friend's side when now is the time that Emily clearly needs her the most. It is moments like these that has Penelope wishing she is an actual field agent but not so much for all the blood, guts, gore and disgust that the typical agent was treated to but rather for the power to do _something._ If she were any other member of the team right now then Garcia could be with Emily instead of sitting in her "office" awaiting an _update. _The past few days had been particularly strenuous, more so emotionally than anything else. Everyone had been working themselves into the ground in search of leads, suspects, and Emily. It is always the hardest when it was one of their own but Penelope can't seem to get past the undertone of tension that has been lurking through the BAU bullpen and even the FBI building as a whole as of late. By this point in the investigation so many people know that it isn't just an agent who was taken but SSA Emily Prentiss, specifically, which had lead to a whack of varying emotional responses. Shock, disbelief, fear, sadness; everything under the sun. It is nothing short of amazing that the press hasn't gotten wind of the abduction yet but this case is considerably much more low-key since the victims are few and far between, no bodies have been found, and there was no previous_ pressing _threat.

Always sympathizing with the victim's family, Garcia cannot help but realize that they are all family, their little team that is, with each member holding an individual role that contributed to the group as a whole and each member respecting and even_ loving _one another in a way. It is that bond that makes it so difficult to see a member of their family being hurt by the job or on personal terms, however, what is even worse than having to bear witness to their suffering is having no clue what is going on. For example, the case in Colorado. Emily had been brutally beaten and the young Dr Reid was sick with grief despite Emily's attempts to alleviate the genius' guilt by claiming that she had made the right the decision by confessing to being an FBI agent. Penelope can recall how Rossi, Morgan, and Hotch had all been subjected to the sounds of Emily screaming and fighting for her life against Benjamin Cyrus. However horrible being forced to listen to Emily's abuse was for the men of the team it had been _nothing_ compared to the few seconds in which they had no idea what was going on in that compound and what was going to happen next. At least when Emily was telling the men not to intervene they had been able to be comforted by the fact that she was not only alive but responsive to boot. But in the current reality, Garcia would give her left arm to be able to hear Emily speak, hell even for her to_ breathe._

"Gah! This is _insufferable!_"

Spinning around in her chair, Garcia groans again and checks her cellphone for any missed messages, just in case Reid or the team or even Emily called her instead of her office phone. No missed calls and no new text messages. This was going to be one long afternoon for the already anxious technical analyst.

"Someone call, _please!_"

Quiet. Nothing but dead, eerie, silence. It is deafening.

For a long moment Penelope ignores the work that she ought to be doing in favour of closing her eyes, leaning back in her chair, and mentally willing everything to be better. Some people may consider her naive for believing in the power of positive thought (to an extent) but it was Garcia who had said it herself; "everything happens for a reason". Then there was their jobs; were countless innocent people murdered, violated, and assaulted for a reason? Were all the killers, kidnappers, arsonists, and sexual sadists spawned and matured (and even occasionally brainwashed) for a reason? The phone interrupts her and immediately Garcia jumps into action.

"Yes?"

No playful greeting, no teasing tone of voice, not today and apparently that is just fine with the person on the other end.

"Reid told us about Emily," JJ states and Garcia can actually hear the rhythmic tapping of the liaison's shoes burning a hole in the ground. "Morgan and I are going to be there."

Relieved, the technician falls back in her chair and thanks her friend for the update, Garcia even confesses to wishing she could be there too.

"I wish there was something I could do."

"You're doing all you can right now," JJ assures as she and Morgan head through the precinct with the intent to get the Hell out of there as soon as physically possible. "We'll let you know how she's doing as soon as we know."

Understanding this, Garcia spins around her chair once more and looks to the monitor that is currently tracking the cellphone that Reid had told her about. The cellphone was quickly approaching a medical center outside of the town of Virgo and about a fifteen minute travel by car for Morgan and JJ.

With her eyes trained on the green dot that is Garcia is tracking, she speaks worriedly into her headset. "How are Hotch and Rossi holding up?"

"Rossi is taking it well but of course he wants to be there with Em too-" JJ sounds a little wobbly in her answer but Garcia just continues the sentence for her liaison friend.

"Of course; how about Hotch?"

There is a pause and if this were a movie than the creepy Jaws music would start playing right about now.

"Well Hotch doesn't exactly _know_ yet."

Pulse...pulse...pulse...pulse..._pulsepulsepulse_...pulse.

Had Garcia's heart just pick up in irregular beating or is she just hallucinating things because this case is really beginning to wear her down?

* * *

_12:19PM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Virgo, Virginia, USA_

It had been a diplomatic decision on JJ's behalf to not tell Hotch about Emily, namely the fact that she was _alive._

Originally Morgan and Rossi hadn't seen her reason behind not telling their friend and unit chief that Emily was being hospitalized since, if it were one of them, they would definitely want to know how she was doing. JJ, however, had taken into account how Hotch was handling the case thus far and based on his emotional whirlwind and worsening insomnia the blonde media liaison considered not telling her superior the lesser of two Devils. Calmly yet firmly, JJ explained to her friends that if they told Hotch that Emily was in the hospital he would either want to be by her side immediately or he would continue his "questioning" even more emotionally out of control and something would very likely go horribly wrong. With their Unsub, Zephyr Nolan, already upset and obviously itching to tell them something JJ didn't want to risk it. So as soon as Reid called her after he apparently got off the phone with Garcia, JJ had asked him for the address of wherever Emily was headed and she was now on her way with Derek Morgan hot on her heels.

"We should have told Hotch."

Morgan tells JJ this as he climbs into the driver's seat of the SUV. JJ adjusts her seatbelt and pretends not to hear any accusation in her friend's tone. She realizes that of course Morgan wants to be honest with Hotch but JJ isn't in the habit of questioning herself or her decisions and she has absolutely no intention of starting now. JJ honestly believes that her choice had been in the best interest of both Hotch and consequently Zephyr Nolan because the last thing that the team and the Virgo police department needs right now is an uncooperative and emotionally stunted Unsub who would react in God only knows what way if he discovered that Emily (aka Temperance) was in the hospital and not actually "dead" as Zephyr seems to believe Emily is.

"It was the right call." JJ defends as she uses the GPS to figure out how to get Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center. "And we _will _tell him."

Swiveling the wheel to the left, Morgan turns on a street corner and responds whilst simultaneously keeping his eyes off of his friend. _"When?"_

_Hmm, didn't really think of that one, did I?_

Not having a concrete answer JJ gives the next direction and takes a moment to mull over when would be an appropriate time to inform her boss and more importantly, close friend, that she had withheld information from him that not only directly involved an active case but one that focused on a mutual friend. _Preferably never, _JJ thinks to herself if only because she enjoys living and doesn't want to leave Henry behind with no mother after Hotch will put her six feet under for keeping something this major from him but she knows better than to speak that thought aloud despite the fact that both she and Morgan are thinking it.

"After the questioning and once we know how Emily is."

They turn another corner and zoom down a desolate road. Morgan asks, "how do you think she's holding up anyway?"

"Em's tough; a fighter," JJ replies but that doesn't really answer Morgan's question at all. "Emily's going to be just fine."

That much is true, the part about Emily being strong physically, mentally, and emotionally. For what they did to pay the bills it was a job requirement but Emily seems to take it above and beyond the call of duty. Compartmentalization is first nature to her, revealing just what she can handle others seeing of her is a skill that is practically embedded in her DNA, and she somehow continually manages to take the attention off of her when it comes to being coddled and cared for by constantly coming off as well put together and totally stable.

"I wish we could have helped more."

"Don't think like that Morgan; Emily would hate it."

After that the two of them drive in silence until they see the squat and rounded building just down the road from them, across the main entrance reads Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center in white plastic letters. It makes sense (in a kind of messed up sense mind you) to name something akin to a hospital after a young woman, a runaway victim of incest, known as the saint of mental illnesses and epileptics. It makes JJ ponder on whether the person that decided the center's name had been choosing because they thought the patients would be like Saint Dymphna or that they had just picked the first patron saint that related to illness. For a moment the blonde is surprised that she even _knows _who Saint Dymphna is considering the fact that JJ doesn't practice any religion per se but as she wracks her head for the information the media liaison recalls a particularly extensive and boring ride on the BAU jet in which the young Dr Reid had decided to pass the time by reciting all of the patron saints that he could. Naturally, the numbers had been well into the double digits and would have continued into triple digits if it hadn't been for Rossi mock praying to God to please shut Reid up for five or so minutes, after that the ride had been rather quiet. Still, JJ doesn't think that she'll ever be able to shake all of the trivial information that she learns each time she listens (or often half-listens) to Reid from her brain. If she focuses hard enough then JJ can even recall some of the more unique saints, like the ones that people pray to when they lose something or have nightmares; apparently there is a saint for just about anything and it had been both intriguing and painfully dull.

Now if JJ believed in God, which she isn't quite sure she does or does not, she hopes that there is a saint or deity or some kind of mystical higher power that is playing on Emily's team right now. As she swings the door shut behind her, JJ prays that someone or something other than their own team is looking out for their friend Emily and as she and Morgan make their way through the front doors of the building JJ concedes that maybe Emily is alive because there_ was _something spiritual keeping her with them. Maybe that was why JJ can't help but utter an _"thank God"_ when she and Morgan flash their badges and are instantly lead to wherever Emily is.

"What was that JJ?" Morgan queries as he falls into stride with his friend, the two of agents following a nurse down a hallway that lacks any kind of light or life.

JJ sighs lightly and feels the words tumble out of her mouth like a confession. "I just can't believe it."

"Me either."

Morgan's hand finds JJ's shoulder to rub it comfortingly, an action that JJ sinks right into and as her squeezing Morgan's hand in kind with a short smile before dropping it when the nurse stops in front of a door that looks identical to all the ones before it.

"Just a moment, please." The nurse states but she is already opening and closing the door before she completes her sentence, leaving JJ and Morgan to wait in the corridor.

_

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_

_7:04AM  
__Sunday December 6th 2010  
__The Hotchner Household_

_If it had not been for his nephew—Jack—than Sean Hotchner would have never considered parenthood. Of course Sean had no intention of becoming a father anytime in the soon but whenever he had spent time with his young nephew Sean hadn't been able to stop thoughts of pea-wee soccer matches, pictures with a mall Santa Clause, high school graduations, and (shudder) college funds. And his girlfriend of eleven months had agreed. __But why Sean had even been thinking about his nephew—aka the Energizer Bunny—at that particular moment was because he had just kept Jack overnight while Aaron had been working late on a case of some sort. Sean hadn't really liked to know too much about his brother's cases and Aaron had been in the habit of limiting information anyway. So there Sean was, driving his SUV with Jack in the backseat, both of them singing along to the radio and eating the donuts that Amelia—Sean's girlfriend—had baked for them. Once they had reached the elder Hotchner's home, Sean had helped his nephew out of the car and piggy backed him to the front door, even allowing Jack to do the honours by ringing the doorbell._

_"Just a moment, please!"_

_A female voice had been heard faintly through the front door and when Sean had raised an eyebrow at his nephew, silent but questioning, Jack had just shrugged a shrug that only children younger than nine years old could master. Total nonchalance. When the door had swung open it had revealed a beautiful but dripping woman on the other side. Briefly, Sean had worried that he and Jack had gone to the wrong house._

_"Good morning," the lovely lady had introduced with a smile that lit up her even more lovely face (what? Amelia and Sean were in love, but that didn't mean that he didn't appreciate a nice body when he saw one). "You must be Sean."_

_Sean had nodded despite his confusion at the time, confusion fuelled by a mystery woman wrapped up in a bath towel in his brother's house. "Uhm, if you're in the middle of something, I just came to drop Jack Attack off."_

_A look of realization had dawned over the woman's face once Sean had implied that she had been doing something other than taking a shower, such as his brother. She had laughed and shook her head amusedly._

_"I'm SSA Emily Prentiss and I work with your brother. We're not, you know—" Emily had, uncharacteristically, flushed a bit as she had attempted to explain to the brother of her boss why she was naked with the exception of a bath towel in the foyer of her superior's home._

_"Oh yeah, I get it." Sean had hurriedly finished for Emily, which had effectively relieved the moment of a lot of its awkwardness although Jack had been quietly giggling to himself. "It's nice to meet you."_

_Emily had smiled again and held the door open more so and had opted not to shake hands since she hadn't been sure if the towel would stay up if she had done so. "The pleasure is all mine. Why don't you come in?"_

_'Because I don't think Aaron is going to want to deal with me and what I think he and you were doing' was a thought that had raced through Sean's mind as he had juggled Jack from one arm to the other. 'It had probably been something completely innocent anyway', Sean had mentally reasoned. 'The two of them had likely just case from a messy case and Aaron's place was closer so he offered his shower'. Not that it had been any of Sean's business what a gorgeous woman had been doing damp and nude in his brother's home, and if they shared an intimate relationship or not. Whatever had been going on between his brother and this Emily had obviously been something that Aaron hadn't been ready to share and Sean had to repress his assumptions and respect their privacy. But then again, what was some innocent curiosity between brothers?_

_"When'd you get here, Aunt Em'ly?" Jack had queried once Sean had lowered him to ground level. "And why no clothes?"_

_'Good question' Sean had thought to himself while he had tried to hide his amusement. __Who had said that Sean wasn't allowed to use Jack to learn about this mystery chick?_

_"Your dad is back from work," Emily had informed Jack and ruffled his hair with the hand that she had used to open the door, the other one had been busy holding the towel together._

_With a facial expression and tone of voice too understanding for a five-year-old, Jack had looked up at his "aunt" and asked, "he catched the bad guy?"_

_It was in that instant that Sean Hotchner had realized the toll that Aaron's job and lifestyle had on Jack. _

_"Yup and he missed you a lot." Emily had assured Jack before telling him to go unpack his backpack from spending the weekend with his uncle._

_"Bye Uncle Sean." The little boy had hugged is uncle in departure. "Thanks for letting me sleep over."_

_Kneeling so that he had been at almost eye-level with Jack, Sean had hugged his nephew and told him "mi casa es su casa", something that, at the time, had left Jack with a confused look on his face. Jack had realized that sometimes, or rather often times, adults were weird and had decided to head up the stairs in search of his father instead of taking part in their weird adult conversation any longer than humanly necessary._

_"So this probably isn't the ideal way to meet your boss' brother, is it?" The question had been asked to fill the awkward silence and Sean had appreciated that; some people didn't enjoy idle chit-chat to fill tense air but given the situation at the time Sean had certainly appreciated it._

_"Trust me, I've had much worse first impressions." Sean and insisted a__nd a look of surprised humor had contorted Emily's previously flushed face._

_"You're not the only one." She had confessed, smiling and shaking her head. "Well-uhm, it was really nice meeting you Sean but I really ought to-"_

_Nodding understandingly Sean had been quick to finish Emily's sentence for her. "Oh yeah! You should, uhm, well I'll just get out of your hair. Tell Aaron I say 'hey'."_

_With a sure smile and a promise to do so, Emily had bid farewell once more before shutting the door as she had turned back into the house. Back to the door, Emily had to take a moment to collect herself for she had been experiencing some things that she hadn't since her days in secondary school. Had she really met her boss' brother while her hair had been matted at her damp shoulders and her body bare of anything other than a towel? Had she actually seemed as domestic as she knew Sean had seen her as? Worse than that, had she honestly felt that exhilarated by the prospect of her and Hotch in a compromising position, such as sharing his shower? No, of course not, because such thoughts had never been appropriate for the workplace. Then again, at the time, Emily hadn't been in the BAU building, now had she? Did it really count if she wasn't at work when such thoughts had come to mind? Not that it mattered much then anyway; her feelings would have been classified as inappropriate whether she and Hotch worked together or not. Why? Long story short; it would have been inappropriate because Emily hadn't been spending sporadic evenings at the Hotchner home for any kind of romantic reason but because she had been trying to be a good friend by volunteering herself in any way possible, which meant on and off the job. By the unwritten definition of a "good friend" that meant that Emily wasn't allowed to feel anything other than concern and care, amiability and kindheartedness, absolute trust and respect, as well as platonic love for Aaron Hotchner. __Those feelings were acceptable in a friendship, budding or flourished. The feelings that Emily had been forced to deal with whilst her back had been pressed against Hotch's front door, however, had been forbidden in the realm of non-romantic comradeship (example: Emily and Hotch)._

_There had been, for the briefest split-second, a swell of hope and desire; the wish to be what Sean Hotchner had obviously suspected of her and his brother as well as the hope that Sean, and others, could see that there had been something between her and Hotch. Other emotions had arisen as well, some that had been familiar and others that were foreign, having left Emily dazed and confused; the coming together of the embarrassment of being "caught" (so to speak) and the conflicting twisted pleasure of being discovered in such a domestic scenario. Surely it had to have been downright sinful for Emily to fantasize being considered "domestic" with a vulnerable man who believed that her intentions had been purely selfless and in his and his son's best interest, rather than to feed her own dreams of being a part of a family unit, something that Emily had never truly experienced in her adult life. However, Emily had always cared deeply for Hotch and Jack, maybe too deeply. Often times Emily had heard the same tired lines of "just friends" or its opposite "more than friends" but the cliche butterflies in her stomach and overall bubbliness that she felt overwhelm her when she had been in the presence of the Hotchner men was not something that Emily had ever considered "more than" since it had been their friendship that had been the gateway to her romantic-esque feelings. Wasn't that how all the best romances started out, anyway? Through the bond of friendship? But that begged the question: is friendship the foundation or is romantic/sexual love a type of promotion from that? It had occurred to Emily that the answer would be a perfect fusion of both elements. Not that Emily had been imagining anything other than the slowly maturing friendship between herself and her superior. Never. After all, it had been completely implausible. Right?_

_"Prentiss...Prentiss...Emily!"_

_Emily had blinked herself into the world of the living when she had heard name snapped repeatedly; Emily had flushed when she realized she zoned out._

_"Oh, sorry Hotch!" As Emily had moved back into action she had noticed the damp patch on the small rectangle of carpet formed from her dripping. "I'm ruining your carpet."_

_A look of vague concern had crossed his face and all Hotch had done to share it was raise an eyebrow at Emily. _

_Heading back up the stairs, Emily had barely turned back to her friend as she had answered him. "Sean says 'hi'."_

_"You met Sean?" Hotch had been the very picture of totally, completely, and utterly flabbergasted by this seemingly surprising news._

_"You know," she drawled once she had reached the top of the staircase. "I'm starting to see the similarity between the two of you."_

_Hotch had decided not to press the conversation and simply shrugged it off, besides her smile had been worth the confusion._

_

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_

**Author's Note:** And that was chapter fifteen! Naturally I want to know all about what you thought of the flashback sequence, Hotch not knowing about Emily;s hospitalization, and Reid's interactions with Andrea. My favourite part, however, was not listed in the above since it is the Emily piece at the beginning of the chapter :).


	16. Chapter 16

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Dedication:** To all the people who can find happiness when others' are happy. I love you :).

**Author's Comment:** I'm late, I'm late for a very important date! Sorry about the hold up folks but here it is, the latest installment of "Disenchantment". Happy reading, you guys! :D

**

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**

**Chapter Sixteen. In Sickness & In Health**

_"One should not stand at the foot of a sick person's bed because that place is reserved for the guardian angel."_

— _Jewish Proverb_

_

* * *

_

_12:33PM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center_

The same nurse that had been behind the front desk when Emily was admitted is now slipping through the doorway with a clipboard in hand a half-frown on her aging face. Emily looks up to her and moves to sit up on the bed that she is lying on, beside her Perry mimics her actions and rights herself in the chair that is usually reserved for visiting loved ones but in this case being occupied by a random, if not generous and concerned, stranger. Originally Rich had been against the idea of taking Emily to the medical center and was instead in favour of bringing her straight to the Virgo police department but Perry had been thinking ahead and claimed that they would send Emily to Saint D's anyway so they may as well cut out the middle man by going there themselves. In the end it had been Perry who had "won" and Emily had been in no mood to argue considering how persuasive the young woman was as well as how grateful Emily felt for the father and daughter who had been taking such good care of her.

As soon as the fifty-something year old nurse had laid her eyes on the shackled and battered Emily Prentiss she had dropped the US Weekly magazine that she had been flipping through and immediately called upon one of the orderlies to find an unoccupied room while ordering a fellow nurse to call the police department requesting that they send an officer as soon as possible. The room that they had set Emily up in was plain and boring and probably didn't see much use but it was supremely clean and the furthest from all of other rooms to assure more privacy, the bed even had a dotted curtain around it forming a neat little bubble for the person making use of the bed although it was open at the moment. Seemingly more lucid than before, Emily feels much more awake and capable of processing thought; she figures that the nurse will want to inspect her or something of the sort.

"Have you completed that paperwork, Miss Prentiss?" The nurse asks softly, shifting from indifferent and professional to compassionate and caring rather eloquently.

"Almost." Emily replies as she nods towards her teenage companion who has offered to help her with filling in her registration form. "Thank you so much for all of this, Perry."

Shaking her head while dashing down the city and state that Emily lived in as well as her ZIP code and as well as her occupation, Perry assures Emily that it really is no big deal and that the form will be filled out shortly. Emily fills in her own street address, social security number, phone number and work number although it is rather awkward considering that she is still bound in her handcuffs. At first the brunette had wanted the damn things off but then she realized that the nurse may want to take pictures of her wounds when she was first administered as a patient and then take pictures and notes of how banged up Emily looked after she was freed from her binding and she had the chance to shower. Once Emily finishes checking off boxes and filling in the rest of her personal information, the nurse takes the form from her and regards her with soft eyes.

"Would you like to take a moment before we assess you?"

With an attempt at a smile, Emily says "yes" and the nurse is quick to shuffle out of the room, as soon as she has disappeared Emily turns her attention to Perry.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

Perry gives the agent a funny look and shrugs. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a complete stranger and you offered to drive me to the hospital, fill out my registration, and stay by my side. So why?"

An expression of _"ah, I see" _dominates the teenager's face as she shifts her chair towards Emily, who is now half-sitting up in the bed. Perry brushes some strands of hair from her face and for half a second Emily is blown away by the genuine compassion in the girl's eye, something that makes this youth seem so much more mature and experienced and sure of what she is saying and doing. Emily can't help but feel as if her question was inappropriate, after all isn't bad to look a gift horse in the mouth? This young woman has been nothing but gracious and generous since the moment that they met and Emily is questioning that, what if Perry takes it the wrong way and misreads Emily? What if she feels as if Emily isn't grateful? Well too late to turn back now seeing how Perry's lips are moving, giving Emily the explanation that she had been looking for.

"What is that you do for a living, you're an FBI agent?"

Emily nods timidly, unsure, and allows Perry to continue.

"You help people right?"

Again, Emily nods and remains silent.

"Then you should have your answer."

Was that it? Had that been all the explanation that Emily is going to get? According to the smile playing on Perry's lips apparently it was and Emily is surprised how it suffice enough for her. After all, Perry's response was something that Emily could definitely relate to; she helped and even, on occasion, saved complete strangers for a living. She and the team, every day they worked with strangers in other cities and states to find victims of circumstances similar to the ordeal that Emily had just suffered through herself. Every day their band of seven would console family members, close friends, and other loved ones of the dead, people that they usually didn't know at all or would ever get to know well. Each day they worked to find justice for those who had been made casualties of serial killers and arsonists and sexual predators. Each and every day but maybe _that _had been what made Emily so curious of why Perry, a random teenage girl, would do so much for a woman that she never met. Surely if there were bad people in the world there had to be good guys too, if only so that people understood what constituted as "monsters". Of course there were, hell, Emily was one of the "good guys" herself.

"I wish we met under better circumstances."

Perry smiles and squeezes Emily's hand, one that is marked with wounds that Emily doesn't even _remember _receiving although, now that she thinks about it, they were probably from one of her earlier falls.

"Wouldn't have been _nearly_ as _interesting_, I'm sure." Perry says it with a wry smile and Emily cracks a smile, which has to be the closest thing that has come to laughter in what feels like millenniums.

Then she adds, "You're going to be just fine, you know."

Quirking an eyebrow, Emily feels Perry release her hand.

"You're too badass not to."

Perry states this so matter of fact that Emily cannot stop herself from actually laughing out loud, albeit softly but nonetheless unapologetically. The dark haired woman's chuckles fade away and both she and her strawberry blonde companion are left with faint smiles on their faces. The younger of the two looks towards the door when she hears what she assumes is the doorknob twisting and Emily mimics her actions by casting her gaze upon the door as well. Slipping through the threshold is the same nurse as earlier wearing that same look of softened sympathy on her face. It makes Emily wonder if this woman has seen as much of what Emily sees everyday and so she her saddened eyes are sub-conscious or, on the contrary, if she lacks the familiarity of seeing someone mottled in bruises and adorned in lacerations and so she is trying to do what she feels Emily wants her to do, namely treat her with kid gloves.

"There are people here who want to see you," she reveals. "With the FBI, they say."

Suddenly everything halts in her mind and Emily isn't certain she is seeing straight; who is here? Someone from the team, without a doubt, but that hardly calms Emily's nerves. Sure, she would love to see her friends again but not like this, not when she looks as bad as she does. Her usually lovely raven hair is currently unkempt and disgustingly oily due to the fact that she has been showering regularly, there are war wounds everywhere she looks, and her ankles and wrists are still shackled to one another. How embarrassing is it going to be for her colleagues or superior to see her wearing filthy clothing and chains like some common prison? For how much longer is she going to be degraded? She doesn't want anyone else to see her this way, oh hell, Emily wants to swing the curtain that surrounds her bed shut so that no one outside her little bubble can see how broken down she truly is.

"What do they look like?"

Fishing for the memory, the elder woman can only offer Emily "dark-skinned and handsome" and "pretty blonde thing" but that is more than enough information for Emily.

"Do you want me to ask them to wait?"

Emily must seem unsure because the woman is speaking tentatively and continues.

"Just until after your preliminary examination then?"

Bobbing her head, Emily nibbles on her lower lip and does the mental math to see how long she can prolong a visit from her team-mates, the ones that she has been dying to see for the past few days but now that the moment has come she is utterly embarrassed to face.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave for this part, Perry." The nurse informs the teenager and Emily wonders how she knows Perry's name.

"You don't have to tell me twice, I know the drill." Perry puts her hands up in mock surrender and smiles supportively when she turns to the supervisory special agent. "Good luck, Emily."

_Good luck._ Emily repeats mentally as the door clicks shut softly. _Maybe she's right._

_

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_

_12:40PM  
Thursday March 25th 2010  
Virgo Police Department_

"What do you think he does with the bodies?"

The tone in which Rossi speaks is so familiar to Hotch, who, understanding their job, shouldn't be as effected as he is by how calm and okay Dave sounds. _Is this what we sound like to the families?_ Hotch asks himself, unnerved with both the fact that he has yet to answer his friend's query as well as how, even though the unit chief can admit to himself how he is affected by Prentiss' involvement in the case, as a victim no less, he is still so capable of slipping back into work-mode; it really shouldn't be so easy for him to shift.

"Presuming they're even dead."

It was stupid to say that, Hotch accepts that and one look from Rossi backs up Aaron's realization. However Dave isn't really _agreeing _with Aaron, telling the unit chief that it is naïve to suppose that each victim has survived but instead that Aaron is stupid for him to 'presume' when he is actually right, about Emily anyway, and that is what Dave wants to tell his friend but cannot because has been sworn to secrecy by a surprisingly intimidating blonde media liaison.

"If he thought they wronged him then he wouldn't want to keep them around."

Dave chews on this for a second and then offers an opposite idea, that what if Zephyr just couldn't bare losing his wife again that he had to keep the bodies? In response Hotch points out that Zephyr would have eliminated the victims once he realized that they weren't Temperance and once they were dead, just as the actual Temperance Nolan, he would go on to find new victims and wouldn't want old ones hanging around where his next idea of Temperance could find them.

"So where would he have dumped them?" Rossi inquires, forcing himself not to let his gaze slide back to Zephyr Nolan who remains sitting in the interrogation room, acting as if he can't tell that he is being spoken about on the other side of the one-sided mirror. The son-of-a-bitch Nolan doesn't even blink and it makes Dave's blood boil.

"Officers did a sweep of the building but there was nothing. No bodies, no blood, nothing illegal either."

Now that tidbit of information was a little strange even to a seasoned profiler like David Rossi. After all, if Zephyr has been holding Emily somewhere in his home and he did believe her to be his wife would he not have thought to make her feel more at home? Shouldn't there have been some kind of personal effect around the house, anything to make it more intimate for 'Temperance'? There should have been _something _that related to the victims, Emily included, that made Zephyr feel closer to the women that he abducted and in turn made them feel as if they were a part of the family as well. That was what Zephyr had been trying to achieve, wasn't it? After watching Aaron _barely_ restrain himself during the questioning, Dave has come to realize two things.

One fact being that Zephyr Nolan was a heartbroken man, whose loss has been so severe it has altered his vision of the world. It has also affected how he sees right from wrong and reality from fiction.

The second being that he chose to confess _now_; not six weeks ago, not six months ago, not six years ago but instead today, of all days. Now why would he do something like that?

"Let me talk to him, Aaron."

"I don—"

"Mind?" Dave finishes the sentence for Hotch. "Thanks Hotch, you won't regret it."

And with that, the Italian-American is on the other side of the one-sided mirror, leaving Hotch behind with an uncertain expression on his face as he was left to watch from the sidelines.

"Did you and Temperance have a fight?"

Clearly, Dave is in no mood to beat around the bush and Zephyr seems aware of that.

"Who are you?"

"SSA David Rossi," he answers as he pulls out the only unoccupied chair in the room and sits himself down. "So did you?"

Eyebrows knit together, Zephyr appears puzzled but responds nonetheless. "No; Temperance and I don't fight."

"Funny because Detective McMasterson over here tells me that you had your hands around her neck, strangling the very life out of her."

Dave says this with the intention of getting under this sick S-O-B's skin. He wants to watch the bastard squirm, to feel what their team and Emily have been going through working on catching him, to take the blame for what he has done, even if the actual event of Temperance Nolan's untimely death wasn't his fault. When color drains from Zephyr's face and his pulse picks up, the vein is almost unnoticeable running down his neck but it makes itself evident now that Zephyr is obviously agitated.

"Because she _kicked_ me."

It is not much of a rebuttal but Zephyr isn't focusing on arguing, just on evening out his breath and soothing his nerves. This "SSA" or FBI guy or _whatever_ is beginning to annoy Zephyr, mainly because he seems to be under the incorrect delusion that being blunt and disrespectful will make this "questioning" any easier, which it won't, for the record.

"So you _were_ fighting."

It pleases Dave and pisses off Zephyr how it is said as a statement, an accusation, and not a question.

"She _wanted_ me and then she changed her mind, I guess."

"She wanted what exactly? Did she want you to have sex with her?"

Ignoring the shiver that runs down his spine as the word "sex" is spat out of him, Rossi remains strong, in control of his anger, and most of all unwilling to let whatever is about to come out of this sick Unsub's mouth. Even though Dave cannot literally _see_ Aaron's face in reaction to what he has just asked Zephyr, the elder agent has a good idea of what it would look like and it reminds the Italian-American of the case where Prentiss and Reid were trapped in that damn compound and how Hotch had responded to listening to Benjamin Cyrus beat Prentiss to a bloody pulp; frustration, impatience, pain, and guilt. Emotions that Aaron Hotchner hates to bring to the surface, ones that Rossi has seen time and time again in these past few days. It is enough to cause Dave's palms to slam against the metal table in front of him.

_"What did she say?"_

Zephyr doesn't even flinch.

"She asked me to love her. She told me _'it's been way too long'._"

He isn't lying, it is the honest to goodness truth, but the mind is a powerful thing, and sometimes believing something enough makes it a new kind of truth. Now if only Zephyr can better articulate how what had happened between he and Temperance without making this FBI guy think that he is some kind of perverse sicko, because Zephyr knows that he most certainly isn't.

"Then why did she fight back, hmm?"

"I don't know!"

Listening to the profiler scoff, Zephyr grips the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white.

"So what? You _strangled_ her because she changed her mind, is that it?"

Zephyr hates the tone of voice that this Agent Rossi is using, one that is snide and patronizing, and the only way to keep from giving the aggravating sonuvabitch a piece of his mind, Zephyr had to control his breathing and count back from ten. It isn't a great comfort tactic but it is preferable to chewing the FBI agent out, Zephyr figures.

"Is that what you did with the other women? Did you hurt them when they fought you off?"

He is standing now, circling the table actually although never completing a full 360 degree circle and instead stopping right at Zephyr's side, dropping decibels as he attacks Zephyr's already vulnerable patience and honour. David Rossi is behaving as if Zephyr is some kind of cold-hearted killer who only sees women as unequal people that should be subjected to violence whenever they don't answer him. Now Zephyr may not have been raised by a gentleman, or by any man for that matter, but if there was one principle that he had believed in through out his life it was that no one treats a partner like a punching a bag, and that laying a hand to a loved one was wrong. This is why Zephyr himself had never done so to his wife or to any of the women that had deceived him. Zephyr believes this so wholeheartedly that he cannot conceal it any longer, unable to stop himself as he exclaims it to SSA Jackass and Brendan and whoever the Hell is standing on the other side of the one-sided mirror.

"Then why are you _confessing _to _murder _if you never hurt her? Why do you _admit_ to wrapping your hands around her neck and _choking _her? Get your story straight; you killed her or you didn't, you never touched her or you forced yourself on her, she wanted it or she fought back. Which one is it Zephyr because no one is buying this hot and cold shit."

The accusations, blunt and unforgiving, have Zephyr kicking his chair out from beneath him, skittering across the floor as he jerks the metal table forward. He cannot contain himself; the pressure is just too much. Zephyr wants to scream, wants to _explain_ but it seems that every time he tries it is lost on those who surround him. He thinks of his sister, who over and over again attempted to understand him but fell short every time. But then again how could Zephyr blame her? The brother and sister may have some similarities but the term half-sibling rang true when it came to the Nolans: opposite sides of the same coin.

They are both dedicated to escaping their respective and bonded pasts, Zephyr having found a hopeful future in a partner whereas Renée has maintained the mindset of a child, someone incapable of seeing anything much past _lunch_ because the concept of consequences is foreign to her still_._ Zephyr, a living example of fusion, blends into another person so much so that he can longer distinguish himself as an individual. Renée, however, is simply loyal and compliant. She can see all of the things that keep her and another separate and will go above and beyond to fill that chasm by pleasing them, by finding some way to connect so that she never has to feel truly alone.

And even though Renée could never fully comprehend him, Zephyr loved her for finding just the right way to get to him, to save him. Renée is the younger sibling and yet, ever since she became an adult it has been she who took care of them both with Zephyr playing the figurehead and Renée as the voice of reason. It was strange for Zephyr to watch his baby sister take on the balancing act that their life had turned into considering how fragile she could be, a little girl on the inside that she refused to let out for the world to see since she always feared that she would be perceived as "weak".

Nevertheless, Renée made herself into whatever everyone else needed and that usually wasn't much until Temperance passed. Then Zephyr needed for his sister to be _everything_ and never once had she backed down from the challenge, never once had she questioned her brother, instead she responded to Zephyr with more than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. Devoted and proud of it, Renée wore every hat from "makeshift mother" to "best friend" to "therapist" to "sister". But then there was a glitch, although it had been a long time coming, and if Renée was any good at seeing past the "now" she may have had a chance to brace her family for when she couldn't answer her brother's call.

When he needed Temperance.

She was the one thing that Renée could never be: an escape.

Growing up, Renée had been there for almost everything. She was there for Zephyr's first girlfriend when she had teased her brother for liking a girl and she had been there through out Zephyr's years in high school when he was transitioning from a boy left to fill in the position of "leader" to a man who could form his own life and family unit that he would head by choice. Renée had been a bridesmaid at her brother's wedding and the legal guardian that would raise Phoenix and Andrea if anything were to happen to her brother.

How could Renée be what Zephyr ran away to when she was the biggest piece of his past?

"She stopped breathing."

_This _gets the agent's attention.

_"Who?"_

Zephyr knows better than to utter the name that is about to roll off of his tongue so he says the second one, the most recent, and watches the emotion play in the elder man's eyes. He doesn't even try to hide it.

"Temperance. Temperance stopped breathing and I knew I had to get help but if I told you where she was you would just take her away again. You can't take her away from me again."

_Help, oh yeah, that's exactly what you need._ Dave thinks bitterly, biting his tongue to keep from speaking it aloud.

"Is she with the rest of the women?"

"No." Zephyr shakes his head and drains his face of expression so SSA Rossi can't read him so easily. "They're all gone."

Dave slides back into his seat, lowering his voice and narrowing his eyes. "And did you choke them too?"

"No."

"But you killed them when you found out that it was all your imagination. You had to get rid of them, I'm right aren't I?"

Enraged and insulted Zephyr begins to pace across the width of the room; wall-to-wall and looking much like an animal in a cage at the zoo. He bites down on his lower lip, he is balling his fingers into a fist before releasing them, and he is trying desperately to keep his vision from spotting.

_"No."_

"You kidnapped them though." Dave states, refusing to let anything go as Zephyr's steps pick up in speed. "You took them from their homes, communities, and work places."

_"No!"_

"How did you do it?" Rossi queries, appearing so innocently quizzical, but Zephyr misses it as he as his eyes squeezed closed. "You're a handsome fella, I bet you just talked them into your car, huh?"

There is no answer just pacing.

"But that can't be it because Alana told you to back off, right? Bet she didn't take to kindly to seeing you turning back up, I bet she put up a fight too. Smart lady."

Holding his head in his hands Zephyr continues his version of the silent treatment.

"Did you have to knock her out, is that it? You had to beat her to overpower her?"

_"No!"_

"Oh yeah, you only _strangle_ women that you 'love', like a _real_ man."

_"No!"_

"So you didn't strangle her," Dave concedes with a sardonic tone. "Did you have a knife, you tell her that you'd slit her throat if she didn't go with you?"

_"Never!"_

"Maybe a gun? You're a family man, aren't ya? You ever keep a gun at home for safety?"

_"Shut up."_

"Touchy subject?" He is so condescending but it doesn't take a profiler to see that Nolan is cracking. "I bet you still have it or maybe you handed it off to your sister?"

_"Shut up!"_

"We've got officers from Quantico talking to her, wondering why she would be so submissive to you. They're figuring out what horrible thing you did to your sister that led her to think she was indebted to you and we all know that you couldn't handle it when those women fought you. But you can thank Renée for that because you better believe that she was the one that told us you killed those women."

"That," Zephyr responds in a deadly quiet tone, "is a lie."

Dave doesn't blink, doesn't hesitate, and doesn't let go of his poker face for anything.

"Which part? Renée ratting you out or-"

Interrupting, desperate, Zephyr exclaims his answer. "Both!"

"You didn't let me finish."

Sighing, Zephyr rests his head against the wall on Rossi's left. "You're wrong about _everything_. I know my sister and she would never tell you people that I did those awful things you are accusing me of _if_ I even did those things in the first place, which I _didn't._"

"But you don't deny owning a gun."

Zephyr looks fit to kill as he maintains eye contact with Rossi. "Let me make this painfully clear-" Zephyr pauses and Dave nods for him to continue. "I have never pulled the trigger of a gun in my life."

"I believe you." Rossi confides as he scoots away from the table and stands up. He faces Brendan, who has been standing there all along, and informs the man that he is "done" with Nolan for now. When the profiler turns on a heel he doesn't look back and doesn't answer to any of Zephyr's questions as he makes his way to where he knows he will find Hotch.

"It was Renée." Aaron states for Dave, not wasting a second. "She killed those women."

"Submissive and obedient," Dave replies with knowing, if not sad, eyes. "It was right in front of us."

Aaron looks so old now, pinching the bridge of the nose exhaustion and the burdens of the case weighing down on his broad shoulders. Not a hair out of place, his suit impeccable as always, and his posture perfect, Aaron Hotchner is the very picture of put together but it doesn't take much for someone to see the grimace that is tugging on his lips and the bags that are forming underneath his already darkened eyes.

* * *

_12:56AM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Quantico Police Department_

Officer Sidney had been kind enough to take Andrea to get a snack after the young girl had closed herself off in response to Reid's pressuring her for an answer. Andrea, being intentionally stubborn, had opted to stop speaking once Spencer demanded to know whom the little girl was projecting through the female doll: a previous victim, Emily, or even Renée. But the thing that had frustrated Reid the most was the fact that the entire time, in which Andrea had been refusing to communicate, Phoenix had been watching with knowing eyes from his seat on the couch.

Phoenix hadn't moved to soothe his sister or to help the SSA; instead he had remained completely composed in his seat as he kept a half-careful and half-tired gaze on his young sister. It was as if the eleven year old had been living this scene over and over again, stuck in repeat, determined to just wait it out. Spencer was never the best at consoling others and that ineptness even extended to those who he cared very deeply for, but Phoenix's non-reaction to Andrea's violent portrayal wasn't like Reid's awkward approach to "normal" social graces; this was a brother who was not only indifferent but just too adjusted to seeing his sister retreat into herself.

So once Officer Sidney had escorted Andrea out of the room, Dr Reid had turned his attention to the preteen with the uninterested expression donned on his face and the colorful plaster in his hands.

"She'll be okay," Phoenix speaks without looking up from the ball of plaster he is rolling between his palms.

"Does this happen a lot with your sister?"

When Phoenix raises an eyebrow, challenging and interested, Spencer elaborates.

Does she always choke her dolls? Does she always stop speaking when backed into a corner? Does she do it so often that you've begun to see it as something akin to ritual? Take your pick.

The negative thoughts swirl through Spencer's mind but he decides against them and instead approaches light-heartedly, in an attempt to win Phoenix over.

"I know that you already told me you have a good home life but how about Andrea?" Reid watches as the boy continues to mould the Play Doh calmly. "Is she happy at home?"

Phoenix is making a car, so it seems, and he places it on the table so he can reach for the yellow plaster next.

"Andrea loves it there. She loves the space and her bedroom and our big backyard. It's dad she doesn't like, not much anyway, but she loves our aunt Renée." Pausing momentarily, Phoenix started squishing blue Play Doh that is sandwiched between his hands. "You'll let her live her, right? After all of this is done, I mean."

"All of this?" Reid parrots.

Molding a small plaster person, Phoenix responds in a monotone voice that puts Hotch's to shame. "My dad is in trouble and he's going to go to jail, right?"

"Why would you think that?"

Quietly, Phoenix flattens some green Play-Doh on the table, drawing little indents in it to make what Spencer assumes is supposed to be grass. When he answers Reid's question his response is wry and matter of fact. "Because the police took us and you won't let me see my aunt _and_ you haven't answered my question yet."

_Are all children this observant or is Phoenix just the exception?_

"I don't know what is going to happen to your father," Spencer admits solemnly. "But things will go a lot better if you help me."

"I _really_ doubt that," the eleven-year old boy scoffs sardonically and when Reid looks interested Phoenix shuts him down. "Trust me when I tell say you don't want to know."

"And yet," Reid rebuts gently. "I do."

Something shifts in the room and even though he knows better, Reid feels it. He sees it as well, the way the boy's gaze seems to intensify and his interest in his plaster masterpiece is abandoned. The genius observes the way that Phoenix changes his posture and how the fingers of his right hand play with a loose string on his pants, a habit born out of nervousness. For a split second Spencer is brought back to an older case, one from what feels like forever ago but as only been two years previous, a case that had Reid interviewing Jeremy Jacobs. The young profiler doesn't know what reminds him so much of Jeremy, maybe the age similarity or how they were sitting on a secret.

"You see," Phoenix tries to make eye contact with Reid as he speaks, it takes a moment but he manages, however, once he does he finds that his voice is wavering. "Andrea is the reason that mom is dead."

* * *

_1:14PM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center_

A rape kit, they are waiting on a rape kit.

Outside of Emily's room stand two of the aforementioned woman's teammates. Jennifer Jareau is currently pacing back and forth in circles on the tile floor while her friend and co-worker Derek Morgan sits with his back against the pale coloured wall, tapping his foot in an impatient manner. Neither one can believe what they have gone through in the past few days but worse than that they hadn't been able to keep their minds off of what could have been happening to their team-mate and close friend. The media liaison and the supervisory special agent as well as the rest of their team had been out of their minds with concern, their unit chief Aaron Hotchner particularly.

One of the worst things about this specific case, however, was that there had been no communication from their Unsub or from Emily so the team had all been left with wild imaginations. In their job they had seen everything but worse: children and adults who had survived every kind of abuse as well as victims who had succumbed to it completely, pedophiles and perverts who manipulated and exploited, otherwise innocent people perpetrating crimes because of a sickness. Everything. They even had the misfortune of seeing their fellow agents put in life or death circumstances, ones that left them with all sorts of scars. The difference between all of those cases and this one was very apparent at this point and that was that none of those cases ever suspected sexual abuse.

The idea of Emily Prentiss, colleague and confidant, being sexually assaulted is so _disgusting_ that Derek and JJ had, upon first hearing that a rape kit would need to be completed, responded that there was no chance in Hell that their friend had been made a victim of such a heinous crime. Of course that had been the emotional and illogical side of their minds speaking and not the cognitive side that knew fully well that they had no evidence or reason to suspect that whoever abducted Emily had hurt her in a sexual way. So here they stand, frustrated and anxious, waiting on some stranger to tell them that their friend was cleared to see them. It just wasn't _fair._ After days of not knowing what was going on with Emily the agents felt as if they were _obligated_ to filled in on her status but according to the nurse they would get their information once a check-up was completed and Emily had some much needed rest.

Checking his watch for what feels like the thousandth time, Derek sighs and drops his head back in exhaustion.

"We have been waiting for at least forty-nine minutes so why haven't we seen Prentiss yet?"

Neither one of them says it out loud but they both know that it always feels the longest when it is one their own.

"I know how you feel, I'm tempted to have you break the door down if we don't get to see her in the next five minutes."

Morgan rolls his head from one side to the other, attempting to will away his impatience. "I just might have to, Jayje."

Thankfully for everyone present, as well as the door, Derek is saved the trouble of tackling an inanimate object when it opens to reveal the nurse who had been tending to Emily. Instantly both agents shot into action.

"How is she?" JJ demands the second that the woman has a foot out of Emily's temporary bedroom. Behind her, Derek is craning his neck in a vain attempt to see past the two women and into the room.

The shorter woman glances between the man and woman before her and tries to figure out how the morning had started out like any other-excruciatingly ordinary-and ended up with an abduction case and FBI agents.

"She took it well and she's a little tired but if you want to speak to her you're more than welcome."

"Is she expecting us?" Morgan asks despite the fact that not only JJ but the nurse as well know fully well that he will want to see Emily no matter the answer.

Nodding, the nurse assures them that Emily is prepared to take a statement but it is imperative that she gets some rest soon. Neither agent argues, mostly because the nurse is correct, but also because it has been days since they've seen their friend and neither can wait a second longer. Once the nurse heads down the hallway Derek and JJ find themselves stepping through the threshold. JJ speaks first: "Knock knock."

"No offense but you two look like _shit._"

Leave it to Emily Prentiss to turn the tables on a situation without so much as a bat of the eye.

"If someone hadn't had us up looking for her than maybe we could have gotten some proper beauty sleep."

JJ, of course, is joking but both Derek and Emily can see the sadness fitting between her words. For a moment Emily is overcome with guilt for trying to make light of what has happened, for what her team has been going through, but Morgan comes to her rescue before she can apologize.

"How are you feeling?" Morgan asks with a soft voice, as if he is truly afraid that Prentiss will break upon contact from his question.

"I've had better days." Prentiss admits, shrugging a gown clad shoulder. Why is it only now that JJ and Derek notice the marking on their co-worker's neck? Their concerned glances are stopped momentarily when Emily comes back with her own question. "Have you guys found him yet?"

The blonde woman turns to her male counterpart and it appears as though they don't need to speak their words aloud to share thoughts. Emily, half-sitting up in the dead center of the room, lets her eyes dart between her friends. Silently she is looking for clues that anything has changed but all she finds is worry lines and frowns that they suck at concealing. Or maybe Emily is just that good of a profiler and can see right through their façade but it is probably the fact that they suck at lying to her.

"We have someone in custody."

What Derek says is rehearsed, a line that Emily knows all too well, and it takes the aforementioned woman less than a second to realize why Morgan had phrased it that way. They couldn't allude to who the Unsub was in the event that the victim, in this case Emily, cannot identify her captor because a defense lawyer could easily spin it so that the jury saw FBI agents pointing a victim in a certain direction. The thing is, despite everything that has occurred in the past few days; Emily still cannot believe that she is a victim. Most often she is on the opposite end of the hospital bed, at the foot or by the side, asking questions and jotting down notes. The few times that she is actually in the hospital gown, the bed, or the wheelchair, Emily feels like she is experiencing a child's Opposite Day and she doesn't much care for it.

"Zephyr Nolan, maybe?"

Two nods: affirmative.

"Do you have the kids?"

Again, nodding.

"How about Renée?"

Unsurprisingly the answer is another 'yes'.

"I missed you?"

It isn't a real question but Emily is pleased when it receives the intended reaction and she finds her two friends on both her left and right side, both of them taking their time to hug and fuss over her. Smiling graciously, Emily is slightly embarrassed by all of the attention that she is getting. Embracing JJ and Morgan, Emily is conscious of her wrists, her sore neck and back, and the fact that she is afraid she may never let go of either of her friends. Breathing in deeply, Emily relaxes when she feels her blonde liaison friend rock her back and forth comfortingly. When JJ lets go of Emily and immediately the aforesaid brunette falls into Derek's secure arms, finding solace somewhere between his jaw and collarbone. She sighs and releases her grip on her co-worker so that she can drop back on to her pillows.

"You are never, under any circumstance, allowed to scare us that much again. Got it?"

Emily's lips curl as she lifts her hand into the air with her little finger struck out. "Pinkie promise."

"So," JJ begins with a bittersweet smile. "Would now be the wrong time to ask you some questions about what happened?"

There is no point in refusing her friend since Emily knows better than to put off giving a statement, for any number of reasons. She could end up forgetting some of the details, she could also be procrastinating helping Renée and the children, and she couldn't really speak "off the record" because neither Morgan nor JJ could give her any information about the investigation. It doesn't do anything to improve Emily's mood but she agrees anyway and watches as Derek pulls up a chair while JJ sits at the foot of her bed. Morgan, ever the professional, reminds his brunette friend that they can stop at any time if Emily ever feels uncomfortable and that they will take their time, that nothing Emily says is wrong and she doesn't have to hide anything. Then again, one of the two people in speaking to her is a trained profiler and the other has woman's intuition, not to mention the fact that they have each known Emily for years and in that time have fine-tuned their bullshit radar.

What could Emily possibly hide anyway?

* * *

_11:45PM_  
_Wednesday November 25th 2009_  
_The Hotchner Household_

_It had been dark and shallow and over all really, very, super-duper un-comfy. The top (or was it the bottom?) was old and worn out, but it had been the only thing that he could actually look at since it was in his eye-line and he had been in no position to move. How would he move if he could, anyway? Sure, he could have rolled on to his tummy but then he wouldn't have been able to see right away when the top was lifted. Besides, what if he had moved even an itty-bitty bit or he wiggled his toes or fingers; he would have been caught._

_Honestly it was the only safe place to be at the time, unlike any of the bedrooms or the bathrooms, because he was never supposed to lock the bathroom doors and besides that he knew that bedrooms would have been the first place someone would look. No one would look where he had been located though, no, that was the point. Only one other person had known about this secret spot and he had been determined to keep it that way. The location was perfect, right in the open but simultaneously hidden so that one would not be tipped off right away, that was what he had been counting on._

_Surrounded by complete darkness all of his other senses had come alive, making him feel as if he had been overcome by something powerful, something that had made him hyper-vigilant. His nostrils had flared at the combined smell of wood and wool, both somewhat dingy but the scent hadn't failed to sooth his anxious nerves at the time. Strangely enough he had experienced taste as well, the bitter flavor of his own tears on his tongue, licking at what he had been able to reach of his cheeks, ones that had been damp from off and on crying._

_There had also been the physical sensations that he had printed into his memory; itchy wool against the back of his neck, oxygen just barely slipping in and out of his lips, as well as his overt awareness of the fact that he hadn't allowed himself to move even a muscle. In those dragged on moments, he had become superhuman, able to hear through the walls that had blockaded him in as well as the carpet and floorboards: crying and lots of it too. However it had swiftly morphed into some unfamiliar sound like snapping turtles and a slow applause or the sound of a bat colliding with a baseball and maybe even the clanging of silverware on the metal pots and pans. At least a year must have passed before he had heard the footsteps, which were hurried and noisy._

_On any other occasion he wouldn't have minded how the steps were loud and painfully obvious but at the time he had been focused on staying discreet, which meant that nothing could bring any attention to him or else something bad would happen, he hadn't known how then but something inside of him had told him there would only be unhappy results if he were to be discovered. So he had remained silent, still as a statue. Except, apparently, his heartbeat hadn't been listening to his head since it was pounding so hard in chest just like he had seen on the Bugs Bunny Show when someone's eyes popped right out of their head and their tongue unfurled to the ground and their heart stuck out of their chest._

_Then, saved from himself, the roof of his little hiding spot had been lifted and the light that he had been expecting to pour in was replaced by a dark, looming figure that had been slathered head to toe in an unholy amount of red._

_"DADDY!"_

_Jack's shriek had pierced the otherwise peaceful air and had effectively woke both his father and his "aunt"._

_"What the-"_

_"Ja-"_

_"DADDY!"_

_Any sleepiness that either adult had inside of them had immediately diminished as Emily shot up right and Hotch leaped from his bed. Stealthily and silently, Hotch had managed to leave the bedroom, leaving Prentiss with only a stern look and a nod, silently informing her to "stay still". It seemed as though SSA Aaron Hotchner never really stopped being SSA Aaron Hotchner, even at home, or rather especially at home. Instinctively, Emily had shoved the covers off of her, ignoring the part of her brain that had told her to remain sitting in bed, and ran to her Go-bag that held her service weapon. The logical part of her mind had argued that whatever was going on with Jack probably wouldn't warrant a gun but whenever Prentiss remembered the last bad thing that had happened in the Hotchner household she had wished she had been more prepared._

_Glock held behind the female agent's back, like a child who would superstitiously cross their fingers, she had deflated as soon as her boss had revealed himself with a wailing Jack Hotchner balanced in his arms. The little boy's cheeks had been beet red and his eyes were screwed shut, his mouth agape as he screamed against his father's shoulder and as quickly as possible Emily tucked away her gun. Hotch hadn't berated Emily for getting out of the bed, he hadn't said a word to her actually, not while he had been concentrating on calming down his son. The man had sat down on his unofficial side of the bed instead and had begun rocking Jack back and forth like he must have done when Jack was only an infant. Immobilized, Emily had stood on the opposite side of the bed and stared in what had to be a coming together of horror and uselessness._

_And yet Jack hadn't ceased his screaming and just kept on crying out for his "daddy", regardless of the fact that Hotch had been holding Jack the entire time, speaking to him even, although Aaron's comforting words were consequently tuned out by incoherent howling. Cautiously, Emily had found her ability to move and preceded to fall to her knees on the mattress, the dip from her weight had barely registered. Moving inches at a time, Emily had made her way to where Hotch had been sitting with Jack flailing in his arms, and once there she had pressed her chest to Hotch's back so that she had been able to see over his broad shoulder. Her hand had come to rest on Jack's head but the boy, afraid and not at all ready for the contact, had jerked away from her touch and for only a split second Emily had felt stunned. Hushing his son, Aaron had held Jack's head to his abdomen whilst Emily gently smoothed out the little boy's frayed hair, unsettled by Jack's whimpers._

_"It's okay, buddy." Hotch's voice had been smooth and sincere with an undertone of sadness, regret even, that Emily had almost missed while being caught up in trying to relax the distressed child in her boss' arms. "You're safe."_

_His little body had been shaking quite a bit as his words meshed together to make them even more incoherent than they had been before but eventually after much cradling and soft speaking Jack had managed to fall back into a sedated state._

_"I'm sorry about that." Hotch had told Prentiss in that point blank way of his, studiously ignoring the expression of surprise and disbelief that had donned the lady agent's face._

_"Everyone has nightmares."_

_Her response could roughly be translated to: we have nightmares._

_"I should put him back in his bed."_

_Aaron had spoken mostly to himself and as he moved to get up he had been stopped by a voice and the sound of bed covers rustling around._

_"He could stay with us if you want, if it gives you any piece of mind I mean."_

_There had been the slightest hesitation but Hotch had laid his son down on the mattress before Prentiss had the opportunity to doubt herself and for that she had been grateful._

_"You really don't mind?" The way that Emily had heard Hotch had phrased it as a rhetorical question but once she had seen that look in her friend's eye, Emily had known better than to shake his query off._

_"Of course not, Hotch." Her hands had been busy tugging the comforter over herself, legs stretching out beneath it, and head dropping back into the pillow as she had replied. "Do you?"_

_'Naturally,' Aaron had thought with something akin to twisted amusement. 'She makes a challenge out of it.'_

_"Not at all."_

_Positioned on his back, lying between supervisory special agents Hotchner and Prentiss, Jack had wriggled a little in his sleep, unconsciously stealing the comforter from the adult duo. Amused by the young child's antics, Emily had smiled in the dark of the room._

_"Goodnight Jack." She had said sweetly and then, with eyes closed, had turned to the man with whom she had been sharing the bed. "Goodnight Hotch."_

_"Goodnight Jack." He had parroted whilst adjusting the comforter over himself and his son before he had turned his attention away. "Goodnight Prentiss."_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** Questions, comments, concerns? Share 'em here! :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D.

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Date of Completion:** Thursday September 23rd 2010.

**Author's Comment:** I'm not dead yet: update time! Hope that this chapter makes up for my unanticipated leave of absence.

**

* * *

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**Chapter Seventeen. ****Sweet Relapse**

_"Pain is your friend; it is your ally. Pain reminds you to finish the job and get the hell home. Pain tells you when you have been seriously wounded. And you know what the best thing about pain is?" ... "It tells you you're not dead yet!" _

_— Master Chief John Urgayle from "G.I. Jane"_

* * *

_1:25PM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center_

At first, Emily hadn't known where exactly to start but once the first few words fell from her lips the floodgates broke right open and nothing could stop her.

It felt like Emily had fallen back in time, all the way back to a time where she was sitting in the confession booth at the Church with the Father sitting on the other side listening to her reveal her deepest and darkest secrets. But right now Prentiss' mouth keeps spewing out words, distorting syllables and making a disjointed mess of her sentences but the dark haired agent doesn't really care at the moment, not when all she can think about is what has taken place over the course of the previous three days.

So here she is, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms lying under the pristine bedspread, chattering away about everything under the sun. Emily talks about Zephyr and Renée, about their home and about the children that live there as well as every other minute detail that she can draw from the back of her head although, she admits as she blows some hair away from her face, some of them are still a little bit fuzzy. After a while her throat runs dry and she asks for some water, JJ excuses herself and once the blonde is gone Emily turns her attention to Morgan.

"Do you think he raped me?"

Derek, unprepared for that of all questions, opens his mouth and proceeds to click it shut, an action that reminds Emily very much of a nutcracker.

"We'll know for sure once we get the-"

Emily, uninterested, cuts him off. "I want your opinion, as a profiler, not as a friend." It is cold cut and black and white. No room for any of that emotional BS but Prentiss feels the need to tack it on anyway. "Right now anyway."

"I really don't know, Emily." Morgan sighs as he slumps back in his seat just a bit. "I haven't interviewed him and there are no previous victims that we can speak to. He needed you to be a wife, a partner in a way that his sister couldn't, so..."

The sentence dies before the dark skinned agent gets to the climax and although neither needs to, Emily fills in the rest anyway. "He could have."

Prentiss knows what Derek is thinking without having to ask. Prentiss knows that the male agent is wondering why she hadn't request to be alone with their close _female_ friend so that Emily could needle an answer out of the blonde liaison instead. The strange thing is that Emily doesn't know the answer either, in fact all she knows right now is that facing JJ or Garcia or even the woman who completed her work up made Prentiss sick to her stomach, whereas the thought of baring her soul to one of her male co-workers felt so much easier.

But Perry is a young woman and Emily had shared some of her secrets with the girl but one could argue that was different, it was not overly detailed, and it was not nearly as personal as it would be if Prentiss were to reveal herself to the people who had known her more and for longer than a virtual stranger that Emily had met just a few hours ago. Now the only people that Emily is left to talk to are people who make their living out of reading people, picking up on behavior and decoding secrets, and the profiler isn't so sure that she is ready to face that just yet.

Actually, in this instant, all Emily really wants to do is curl up in a ball beneath the bed sheet and to never show her face again; right now all she wants to do is cry. God, how long has it been since she has cried and would it be totally inappropriate for her to lose it in front of a co-worker? But she doesn't because if she breaks down now it will show her friends how shamefully delicate she truly is and they can't see that, no one can, since the second someone shows vulnerability they are either pitied and babied or ripped to shreds.

Besides that Prentiss cannot help but wonder where the _fuck_ Hotch is.

"Here's your water, sweetie." JJ's soft voice intervenes and Emily is grateful beyond belief for the distraction.

The Styrofoam cup passes between the two women and Emily doesn't dare look at her wrists as she reaches for the water.

"Reid is with the Quantico PD and Garcia is at the BAU. Rossi and Hotch are conducting the interview."

This is how the update goes: no details. Prentiss listens to her blonde friend fill her in on what their team is up to, why they aren't with her now, and how much they miss her. For a moment the brunette considers saying something about leaving to head back home but is aware of how no matter if she got on both knees to beg _and_ grovel neither Morgan or JJ would allow release forms to be filled out.

_Stupid over-protective friends. _Emily curses silently although the sentiment is appreciated.

A phone buzzes and eyes quickly fall on Morgan, who answers his cell quickly.

"Morgan."

Pause.

"Yeah, we're with her now."

Patience.

"Do you wanna talk to her?"

Breath caught in throats.

"Okay then, we'll see you soon."

Breath expels.

"That was Hotch and Rossi," Derek begins as he tucks his phone away. "They'll be here soon."

Before Emily has the chance to dwell properly, JJ jumps on the millisecond of silence to bring a little optimism to the situation by informing her friend that they will try getting her home as soon as possible and that Emily can borrow her phone at any time to call Garcia or Reid if Emily wants to. Grateful, Emily thanks the liaison for the offer but suggests that she gets a little more rest instead. Derek and JJ take this as their cue to leave, wishing her "sweet dreams" and informing her that they will have the nurse check on her later, but before either agent leaves they both go to embrace their friend.

"G'night Princess." Derek murmurs as he circles his arms around Prentiss' shoulders.

"It's still day time." Emily rebuts, concealing a stubborn smirk when she earns a scoff from her dark-skinned friend and a "smart ass" mumbled under his breath.

The blonde woman smiles and slides her arms under the dark haired woman's armpits, tugging her close for a moment. "Sweet dreams, Em."

Prentiss pats JJ's back for a moment. "Thanks, Jayje."

And then they are gone and Emily is oh-so relieved. The profiler collapses against the bed and squeezes her eyes closed; a few seconds later liquid is running down her cheeks at lightning speed. A split second passes and her throat quits swallowing, causing her to choke on her own saliva, and it doesn't help anything that it is already sore. Emily goes to retrieve her Styrofoam cup of water but her hands are trembling and she ends up spilling more of it on the bedspread and herself than actually drinking it.

_Fucking water,_ she thinks as the sheet absorbs the liquid. _Fucking hospital, fucking Zephyr, fucking Goddamn tears. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

Emily's dexterous hands jerk the bedspread over her head as she curls on to her side, the blanket effectively covers every inch of her and she balls her fingers into fists to press against her chest, Emily considers staying like this forever. The dark haired agent doesn't care that she cannot think straight or that her tears are forming a pool on the bed linen or even that she likely won't be able to get a good night's rest since she knows all to well from experience that nightmares will infect her during the non-waking hours.

Distraught, Prentiss thinks back to when Derek had answered his phone, asking Dave and Hotch if they wanted to speak to her, and how the answer must have been a _no_ since she wasn't handed the cell. Why hadn't they wanted to speak to her? They had missed her, hadn't they? Well_of course _they had for JJ and Morgan had assured Emily of that much and it would be silly of her to think that after knowing Rossi and Hotch for_how_ many years they would just not _care._ So why had they not wanted to speak to her: had they decided to continue the investigation or were they otherwise preoccupied, or maybe it was as simple as having another person on hold?

Prentiss uses the bed linen as a blank canvass to draw stars with five points and then the Star of David, three-dimensional shapes, as well as smiley faces and spirals. She remembers how, as a young girl, her mother would do the same thing on Emily's own back. It was game for them, each taking a turn to trace random designs and patterns in the space between the other's shoulder blades, pictures that the other person would have to guess. Sometimes, when she was learning hot to spell, Emily would practice printing her name down her mother's delicate spine; today, however, she is cursive writing Hotch's.

_H-O-T-C-H_

_H-O-T-C-H-N-E-R_

_A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H-N-E-R_

_S-S-A A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H-N-E-R_

She doesn't know when it happens but one minute she is connecting the C and the H with a flourished loop and the next Emily is knocked out, dead to the world, asleep beneath the thin plain blanket that she using for shelter. Maybe the painkillers that she is on are responsible for numbing her or perhaps she is just too worn out to feel anything right now, but whatever it is she is thankful since it causes her dreams to be bland and hollow with the exception of white noise.

* * *

_1:48PM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Quantico Police Department_

"Dr Reid?"

Spencer looks up and sees the figure standing in the doorway with Detective Hahn hot on her heels. It is Renée Nolan and she is looking remarkably better than she had been after their last encounter. Her hair is now neatly brushed back from her face, her eyes are no longer blood shot, and her clothes are tidy; if Spencer were to look beyond the sorrow that is evident in her eyes as well as the tired lines on her face he would classify her as 'beautiful'. Reid wonders if Renée has a nice smile or not, although something inside of him is pushing that she does. It reminds him a lot of his mother, who had the nicest eyes when they lit up with contentment, but never really showed it.

"How can I help you?"

If he were like most people, which he isn't, Reid probably wouldn't want to help the woman who assisted in kidnapping a close friend and colleague of his but after speaking to Phoenix and trying to decipher Andrea, the profiler is kind of glad that Renée has come to him. He wants to help her; he really does. The good doctor wants to put Renée Nolan back on the straight and narrow because, like most of the Unsubs that the team catches, she is a victim herself, to a degree.

"I wanted to thank you," her voice is delicate but her motions, as she crosses the room with Hahn no more than three steps behind her, are admirably confident.

Reid stands up and pulls over two more chairs then gestures to the man and woman to sit.

"For what exactly?"

Renée takes a seat and then, following the action, so does Hahn. When they sit beside one another, Spencer can see how they contrast, like they are figures in a "spot the differences" activity. The woman, with her perfect posture, is looking straightforward at Reid with her hands folded neatly in her lap and ankles crossed over one another. The detective is sitting with a stiff back, his attention divided between Reid and Renée, and feet planted firmly on the ground. It is a pretty good representation of how the relationship between Zephyr and Renée must have been: Renée prim and proper at the side of Zephyr who held the control.

"Talking to Phoenix," she answers and it sounds sure enough until she adds more, as if she is correcting herself. "For saving that woman, Emily is it?"

It doesn't surprise Reid to hear the name come out as a question; Renée had probably only heard "Temperance" instead since she first met Emily.

"It's my job."

Renée shifts and Hahn darts his eyes between the doctor and woman.

"My brother is a very sick man, you're a doctor; can you not see that?"

Reid does, in fact, see that Zephyr Nolan is not well but it is not because Spencer is a doctor or a profiler or a genius. Every day he sees what people do to other people, men and women and children alike, and how no matter who you are you are capable of unbelievable things, whether those things be positive or negative.

Spencer also sees how one person's choices impinge on all those that surround the source, similar to an infection, and sometimes that results in someone becoming scarred and jagged. Like Renée has, like countless Unsubs have, but if he excuses what Zephyr has done then Reid is condoning not having to take responsibility for one's actions and once that happens anarchy is sure to follow.

"Your brother also kidnapped three women, two of whom did not survive."

Emily, the third victim, could be considered "lucky" but she will have to live with her scars for the rest of her life.

"I know." She isn't looking for pity but she does sound saddened. "I don't want him to go to prison though, I mean there has to be another place for him, somewhere to get help."

From personal experience Reid can understand where Renée is coming from and he knows how difficult it may be for Renée when her brother will likely refuse the need to be hospitalized. Maybe because it was Emily, a friend and co-worker, his judgement is somewhat coloured but Spencer can see Zephyr behind bars for what those women endured and for what those children endured.

"I can talk to some people but I can't promise anything."

Exhaling, her posture collapses with relief in her seat. "Thank you."

Reid, unable to control himself, continues. "Is that why you came here? To ask me to help your brother?"

Her lip twitches and the atmosphere surrounding Renée sifts drastically. "You seem to know what you're doing, you've done pretty well with me."

"In that case I suggest you seek some help as well as your brother; I think you would both greatly benefit from it."

There is tightness to Renée's features when she hears this and she slowly pushes herself into a more proper sitting position, probably to feel less vulnerable. "There's no helping me, doctor, I'm much too stubborn."

All three of them—Spencer, Hahn, and Renée—are well aware that Zephyr won't be the only one persecuted by a panel of his peers, they know that Renée is going to be taken to court as well, that she will have to face the consequences of her actions just like her brother. An awful thought speeds through Reid's mind: going to court.

There would surely be lawyers and a custody battle involving Phoenix and Andrea, not to mention that everyone related to the cases would likely be asked to take the stand. It would be difficult for their team, being so close to a victim—to Emily—and having to view or even be a part of the trial: professional experts, character witnesses, and all that jazz. But the worse would definitely be Emily, the only survivor, when she would undoubtedly be asked to speak under oath about what she has been through.

Reid mentally lists the charges against Renée Nolan: three counts of aiding and abetting in an abduction, one of which was of a federal agent, as well as two possible counts of murder in the second degree. It won't be easy for a lawyer to convince a jury to give Renée a less severe sentence especially if one of the victims is a member of the law enforcement, like Emily is.

"Never too late to start over."

Renée smiles sadly and pats Spencer's knee, Hahn watching with the eye of a hawk the entire time.

"I could never do that to my family."

_Do what exactly? _

Reid ponders as Renée asks Hahn if she can see her nephew and niece now and the detective allows it although it isn't exactly what one would call pleasantness.

Nonetheless Detective Hahn thanks Dr Reid for his time and escorts Renée towards the door but she doesn't need to be pushed for she is the very picture of obedience and poise. Her chin is tilted upwards, her hair is framing her face, and her movements have an alluring sway while maintaining a certain subtly. As Reid watches the woman make her exit and the profiler is reminded very much of Emily, who was bred to balance elegance and tenacity, practically a necessity for her class. Spencer cannot get over how disheartening it is that someone with such sophistication and devotion could be ruined so easily, that such a strong and capable person can be broken down like Renée Nolan has been, like Emily likely has as well.

* * *

_2:00PM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Virgo, Virginia, USA_

Since Emily didn't have a second pair of clothes with her when she was admitted as a patient JJ had wanted to pick her up some for her release. However, Hotch and Rossi were coming from the police department anyway and decided to save their fellow agents the trip and suggested that they do it while Derek and JJ kept watch over their friend. JJ, however, had argued that there had to be something more for her to do and it had taken a team effort for Derek and Dave to convince the blonde liaison that it was, in fact, _okay_ to do nothing more but wait for Emily to feel better and to update the members of their team that were still in Quantico whilst Aaron and Dave stayed in town.

Thankfully, JJ had been reassured enough to give the green light for Rossi and Hotch to buy a few things for Prentiss even though the men had been humoring the blonde woman, knowing fully well that Hotch could very well order her to stand down on the choice because he held the position of unit chief, unlike JJ. Hotch had felt like reminding Dave of that little fact when the Italian-American insisted that he drive instead of Hotch, who usually took full command of the wheel, a decision that was never spoken of and just assumed. Leader of the team was the leader of the SUV, everyone seemed to believe that the two just happened to go hand-in-hand. Until now, that is.

"You know I don't need to be watched over Dave."

The comment is out of the blue, sure, but that doesn't deter Rossi, who doesn't take his eyes off the road for even a second as he replies to his friend off-handedly.

"No one said you needed to be, Hotch."

Resisting the urge to pout like a small child, a sight surely unbecoming of a federal agent, Aaron sits up straighter in the passenger seat and focused his eyes between Dave and the road.

"You and the team seem to think so."

And it is true, there is no denying it, since they started working this case Hotch's agents have been failing at hiding their concerned looks and have continued to insist that he, in not so many words, get a hold of himself. It is insulting as the unit chief to not be trusted by his team, it is frustrating as a friend for Aaron knows that his teammates acknowledge that something is wrong with him, and it is impossible for someone who is so used to being in control to have it so suddenly taken away. In the worse possible way, no less. _Emily,_ of all people.

Aaron knows that if it were _any_ member of his team in such a situation he would not only be worried out of his mind but also be running himself ragged trying to help. The difference is that Hotch realizes if it were any other member of the team he would have enforced the importance of remaining calm and as impartial as possible since it would surely benefit in the end much more than he has. Something that JJ said once comes to Aaron's mind: "You stop caring, you're jaded. If you care too much, it'll ruin you." And it is true, especially when one works for the BAU.

It is a balancing act and you're constantly worrying over if you're tilting too much to one side or the other. Hotch hates that his judgment was clouded the moment that he laid eyes on Zephyr Nolan, immediately assuming the worse and wanting nothing more but to do harm to that sonuvabitch. He also hates how his own team seemed to be doubting him, after all, it was one thing for Aaron to think he was slipping and a whole other when subordinates thought it. And a small part of him really hates how, after all of that has happened, he can still want Emily out in the field.

"What gives you that impression?"

_Typical Dave, _Aaron thinks bitterly. _Trying to be cryptic when he's really just stalling._

It is a mean thought considering that David Rossi has been a close friend and confidant of Aaron's for many years but right now the unit chief doesn't really give a damn because he _wants_ to be angry and with who hardly matters in his mind. The dark eyed, dark haired man wants to punt something into the stratosphere, he wants to shout until his lungs give out, and he _really_ wants to rearrange Zephyr Nolan's face with his fist. But giving into any of those wishes will not be useful when talking to David Rossi and Hotch, of all people, would know that.

"Where to begin? Both you _and_ Reid thought it was better for me to observe the questionings of Zephyr and Renée Nolan rather than conduct them myself, Morgan approached me after a debriefing and JJ did _during_ it. Want to tell me what that was all about?"

"It's been a tough few days for _everyone_, Aaron. We were looking out for each other, it's what we do."

The elder profiler replies as he parks the Yukon outside a store straight out of a fairytale, classic and wooden, nothing that one would find in an actual city. Virgo is small, quaint really, and probably relies heavily on tourism. It is a sleepy town and looks like it is a picture from a postcard, all cute and cozy. Hotch and Rossi climb out of the vehicle and head into the building, a department store, surprised when a bell attached to the door rings upon being moved. When the two profilers enter the store they can see just how small a town Virgo really is.

The shop is full of everything that one may need in a town like Virgo but it is empty of any customers with the exception of two employees, both teenagers in their own little worlds. One of the employees is a teenage boy, probably sixteen or seventeen, working behind the front counter. He is sitting on an old stool, bent over a few open books and is holding a pencil between his teeth, which are locked in place by braces and elastics. Short blonde hair stops at the kid's jaw so it takes a second glance from the profiler to realize that the teenager has a snug and helix piercing, which is in severe contrast with the rest of the store.

Apparently there is no employee uniform so the young man is dressed down in cargo pants and a wrinkled button down over a t-shirt promoting a band that neither FBI agent has ever heard of. The kid does not bother to look up when Aaron and Dave enter the building but instead takes the pencil from his mouth and uses it to scrawl something across a scrap of paper. The only other person in the store is a girl busily sweeping the wooden floorboards with iPod ear-buds plugged into her ears.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" The girl, probably no more than fifteen years old, inquires as she wraps the wire of her ear-buds around her neck.

"Yes, actually. Where do you keep your women's clothing?"

Something takes over the girl's face but it is not judgmental or even surprised, nonetheless Rossi jumps to correct any confused presumptions.

"We're shopping for a friend of ours."

Smirking amusedly, the adolescent leads the FBI agents towards the back of the store and through a carved archway where the floor is slanted. It showcases a spacious room with a vast selection of attire for children and adults of both genders. The teenager speaks briefly about their discounted items and queries what kind of clothing does their friend need?

What kind of clothing did they want?

Aaron hadn't really thought of it before the girl mentioned it and for a second he wishes that Derek and Dave hadn't convinced JJ to stay with Emily so she could go shopping and he could be the one pacing outside of Prentiss' room.

"Casual but feminine. I'm sure that we can manage."

_Figures._

Hotch reasons that Dave has probably done this a hundred times before, unlike Hotch, who had never really had an eye for women's fashion even while he was married to Haley. Haley, who never made it a habit to spend money, would find clothes that suited her body and her lifestyle. As far as Aaron knew his ex-wife had never been one to pay six hundred dollars for a purse and a pair of shoes, she didn't wear an outfit only once, and she had always managed to look good. But when it came to Prentiss, Aaron supposes that he doesn't really have a clue what she would like.

The young teen watches Dave and Aaron's eyes wander over the room and states, "If you need any assistance give me a shout." After that she disappears without a trace.

"So what do you think Hotch?" Rossi wonders aloud as he heads over to an alcove in the wall where a variety of jeans are hanging. "Jeans, shirt, tooth brush, stuff like that?"

The unit chief looks over at the elder profiler and nods, his face devoid of any emotion, as he spins himself towards a table with a variety of shirts laid out atop it. It is March and it certainly feels that way; the wind is chilly and persistent, the ground is constantly damp, and everyone is waiting around for the sun to come out. Funny, it hasn't been all that nice the past week and maybe it was an omen for what was to come.

Aaron looks over a rainbow of graphic t-shirts, totally unsuitable for the weather but colours that appeal to the eye, something that Hotch guesses people need when the month isn't as sunny as the rest of Spring should be. The shirts have cutesy cartoons with so lame that it's funny puns printed in different fonts and if the reason for this outing wasn't as upsetting as it is then Hotch would have picked up something for Garcia who would appreciate the brightness and sentiment.

What the _fuck_ does Prentiss wear?

Usually when Aaron sees her it is either at work, in which the last thing on his mind is how his team his dressed, or when she is sharing a bed with him and something tells him that sleepwear isn't exactly the outfit that he and Rossi are supposed to be looking for. What is her size anyway? Medium, large? Not a small though, Aaron takes one look at the small sizes and imagines that it wouldn't cover her abdomen, not that Emily Prentiss showing skin would be unattractive thing, it just is not what Hotch should be thinking about after she has just been through Hell.

Some teal turtleneck is mixed in with the tank tops dangling on itty-bitty wire hangers and Hotch decides that he wants this to be what Prentiss wears, namely because it is covering everything, and he chooses to blatantly ignore that his only reason for wanting his agent to wear it is because he doesn't want any other guys' eyes on her. Eventually Aaron stumbles upon some dark blue, nearly black, sleeved shirt that will likely only reach her elbows but he doesn't think that she'll mind. He grabs the hanger and spins around when he feels a tap on his shoulder: Rossi.

"Ready to go?"

With the shirt in hand Hotch nods because Dave could not even _begin_ to understand just how ready Aaron is to erase the town Virgo from his memory.

* * *

_2:30PM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Virgo, Virginia, USA_

Penelope Garcia as always hated not being in the loop.

The usually bubbly technical analyst has always hated it, ever since she was a kid in elementary school, if something was going on she was more often than not one of the first to know about it. It didn't surprise Penelope one bit when she had first made the realization that her job with the FBI fed that part of her personality since the "information highway" and Garcia's incredible hacking capabilities allows her access to all the info that she can get her hands on. Being on the inside is not only important for juicy gossip material that is shared over a couple of Cosmopolitans after hours but also for times like these when something totally unexpected pops up so that you know how to remedy the situation.

Nothing could have prepared the spirited TA for what had happened to Emily.

Employees of the FBI see some pretty awful stuff on a regular occasion and even though no one will say it out loud it is almost "normal" to surround oneself with mutilated corpses and abuse victims and terrorists threats and all other fowl cases that come across the BAUs (not to mention all of the other departments) desks. Worst of all it is not unusual for a member of the FBI to be put into danger, which is a well known hazard of the job.

And yet it is always extremely stressful when it is one of their own who is made a victim because that is when the reality that even members of the law enforcement are only mortal slaps someone across the face, that superheroes fall too. If those people, those who serve and protect, are victimized then who is ever truly safe? That is a truth that _no one_ is ever completely ready to face.

"She _is_ fine, you know." The quirky but sensationally cute profiler points as he leans back in his seat, watching as Penelope paces back and forth.

_"Is"_ as in present tense. This a good thing, no doubt about it, but Garcia can't get over the _was._ Emily Prentiss may be fine _now_ but what about before, when she was abducted and abused? What does that mean for _later_? That is what Penelope is concerning herself with.

Spencer, noticing his friend's dismay, spoke up in yet another attempt to sooth the tech's nerves but it was to no avail.

"I don't know how much no longer I can handle this, boy genius." The dyed red-head stated as she spun around on a ridiculously high heel, her jewelery clattering together from the sudden motion. "I need my Prentiss-fix."

Legs propped up and fingers laced together behind his neck, Spencer frowns empathetically at the worried TA. It is instances like these that the young profiler wishes he were better at consoling people, especially the ones that mean a lot to him. If the good doctor had it his way everyone would be comforted by the black and white of science, as well as statistics. It was difficult for most people to wrap their head around how numbers and facts since they are usually seen as cold and impersonal, but that is the whole point.

Looking at something as a scientist rather than a subject was always preferable, which is why Spencer falls back on it whenever he becomes antsy or awkward and let's admit it, that is a lot of the time. In this case the fact of the matter is that their friend and co-worker Emily Prentiss is safe at Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center with three profilers and a media liaison with the maternal instinct of a mama bear. Reid cannot fathom a better team to take care of his friend.

"Emily is good hands, Garcia." Reid tries again whilst playing with the cheery lollipop in his mouth.

The young doctor had never been sure why Garcia needed all these treats in her office until he was recovering from that nasty bullet wound and was stuck on the crutches; artificial flavouring was as good as any therapy. Even now, as the is reassuring his friend he is rolling that crappy yet delicious cheery lollipop back and forth in his mouth, a comfort mechanism that he will deny if anyone dares to mention it.

"We can see her when she comes home."

Impatient and unimpressed, Penelope falls into her chair and takes a swig of some overly caffeinated and wonderfully sugary beverage. "When will that be?"

And then, right as Spencer has opened his mouth with the answer on the tip of his tongue, Garcia's cellphone chirps to life. Spencer must have blinked and missed how quickly Penelope had answered it.

"Go!"

It is faint but Reid can still hear the familiar tone of voice that he can peg only to Jennifer Jareau.

"I just wanted to know how you two are doing back home."

Garcia is sitting down now, a glittery pen in one hand and her cell phone in the other, spinning in her chair as she barely conceals her restlessness.

"It's horrible, Jayje." The FBI's best technical analyst complains and it causes Spencer to frown a little. "How is the raven haired darling doing?"

Straining to hear, Reid can make out that she is doing fine, napping now, and that Morgan is doing a good job of intimidating the nursing staff. Penelope, a bundle of nerves, shoots of a dozen questions and Spencer is left to watch her spin in that chair, her hair swinging in every direction, and know that he cannot do anything more than _wait._ Wait to know how Emily is doing, wait to see his teammates again, wait for justice for three innocent women.

"Have the boss man seen her yet?" Beat.

"Oh okay, how has he been doing?" Pause.

"It's been hard for him, huh Jay." Inhale.

"I don't know, chickadee." Exhale.

"The junior G-man has been keeping his cool, honestly I don't know how he does it."

Spencer mouths something and mimics taking the phone from the redhead.

"Hold on, sugarplum, I think our resident boy genius wants a word."

Thanking the colorful woman, Reid takes the phone from Pen.

"She's a little nervous about Em." Beat.

"I spoke with the aunt, yeah Zephyr's sister." Pause.

"It's the kids I'm really worried about." Inhale.

"You should speak to Prentiss about it." Exhale.

"No, no, let her rest. Tell her we miss her."

Penelope, sitting on the edge of her seat speaks in a hushed yet eager tone.

"Thanks JJ, I appreciate it and you should get some rest too. Oh, Garcia wants to speak to you."

Agitated, Penelope leaps for the phone and releases a relieved breath as soon as she hears the liaison's voice on the other end, as if the redhead believed that, like Emily, JJ would be there one moment and gone the next.

"Mm-hmm... ahhh... oh."

Spencer is not even bothering to keep up with the conversation any longer and is instead concentrating on reclining in his seat with a new green lollipop pressed between his lips. He figures this way it is easier than actually talking.

"You tell her that when she gets home- Exactly. Okay, you should go and check on my Chocolate Thor. Send our love, thanks Jayje."

Together, in companionable silence, sit the two youngest agents of the BAU team mulling over what to say next.

Finally breaking the quietness of the room, Penelope speaks up. "Gumdrop?"

Turning his attention to the TA, Spencer appears inquisitive and concerned. "Yeah?"

With spread open arms she smiles sadly. "C'mere."

* * *

_6:40PM_  
_Thursday March 25th 2010_  
_Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center_

"How long have you known?"

It is the first thing to be spoken in a solid five minutes, five minutes in which time had been standing still and ignorance was bliss. Neither Aaron nor Emily had dared to break the silence in those drawn out quiet moments, the former of the two having pretended to be asleep whilst Aaron drank in the sight of a faux-slumbering Prentiss. But now the lady agent has made her wakefulness explicitly known and her superior is forced can no longer ignore the present situation no matter how much Hotch wishes that he can.

"About?"

Aaron does not move, he is rooted to the ground, and as much as he wants to reach out to take hold of the reality of Emily Prentiss being alive and in one piece the unit chief is painfully aware of how one touch would never be enough. Plain and simple, he would never be able to let go. Not after what Prentiss went through, the team as well, and the personal Hell that had become Aaron Hotchner's life these past few days.

From a _completely_ professional perspective Hotch wonders just how long he can keep Prentiss out of the field and back home where she can remain safe and sound. And as soon as that thought came to Aaron's mind he comes to the realization that this particular event cannot be chalked up to the dangers of their jobs, this time Prentiss was made a victim by sheer coincidence.

Prentiss—with her dark and thick brown tresses and her dark and deep brown eyes—had somehow caught the attention of a very sick man who needed a woman to fulfill his fantasies, his delusions, his hallucinations. The agent had been taken from home, Hotch's home but a home all the same, and if she could not be safe with an armed FBI agent lying beside her than where was Prentiss suppose to feel secure?

"That I've been awake; I'm not _that _talented as an actress."

It sounds like Prentiss wants to make light of the situation but it falls short, greatly and between she and Hotch, amazingly make the room so much more tense.

"How many hours of sleep have you had?"

"Enough."

The woman's response is not short and impatient but Aaron is not oblivious to the note of finality in it so he does not press the issue.

"We're going home tomorrow so you'll have to spend the night here."

"Good," Prentiss replies and it sounds as though she is testing the word on her tongue. "I don't know about you but I'm a little homesick."

Homesick.

That is _exactly_ how Hotch feels.

"Penelope and Reid are looking forward to it too; they've really missed you."

"Yeah, Rossi told me that Pen has been calling every hour on the hour, like clockwork."

Aaron remembers how, when he began working for the BAU, he had missed being home with Haley whenever he was working a case. Wherever there was a spare moment Hotch could be seen with a phone pressed to his ear and a sad smile on his face, an expression that people in limbo wore, drifting between happy and maybe disappointed. The dark haired and dark eyed man had missed the woman in his life, he had been bothered by the laughter and peace and simplicity that he had been missing out on when he was off saving others from having to miss someone.

Then as the agent matured in both professional and personal aspects, Hotch had felt homesick in the sense of missing out on his life with his wife and child, his life with his family. The unit chief had stopped checking in as often but that hadn't hindered his thoughts, which always came back to his home in Virginia, one that was, more often than not, missing a husband and father. Hotch had begun missing the time in his career where he and Haley looked forward to the grace period between cases because it meant that it was time that would be spent together instead of time waiting for the next reason for Aaron to head out the front door.

"They're thinking of you, we all were, but you shouldn't worry about us."

"Why not?"

However, SSA Aaron Hotchner now suffers from a different kind of homesick. It is the awful feeling that Hotch had when Haley had filed for divorce, the internal feeling of dread and guilt that had overcome him when seeing his son became a gift or surprise rather than routine, and it is that disgusting and increasingly familiar feeling of shame. The unit chief has felt it every time that he stepped into his brownstone this past week, homesick in his own home. _Pathetic._

The Hotchner household doesn't really feel the same without people truly _living_ there. It is far too neat, most surfaces covered in a coat of dust but in order, organized without a paper out of place. There were never many dishes collecting in the sink or the washer because how often did Aaron and Jack even eat together? Then whenever the father and son had a sit down meal together Hotch would be mindful to clean up, a habit that he had never really done whilst he was married but made an effort to do after Haley had divorced him and then more so once she had passed.

"You should be taking time for yourself, Prentiss, especially after everything you've been through."

"Why would I worry about myself when you guys are already doing it for me."

Usually things around the house were untouched, which would explain how it has remained in such a state of tidiness. Neither the father or the son like to admit it but it is often because no one is _really_ living there. Sure, Aaron and Jack will wake in the morning and go about their morning routines: washing up, getting dressed, sit down breakfast, packing up, and out the door. But that does not necessarily mean that either looks at the brownstone and thinks of it as anything more than a place to sleep.

Until Jessica came by to check in on the "boys" or whenever Jane babysat Jack in his own home rather than hers as well as in the rare instance that one of the members of the BAU dropped by the Hotchner residence for a visit. Or whenever Emily would spent the night. Without Prentiss, without Jessica, and with the ever-present reminder of how coming home sometimes feels more difficult than the job, Aaron is amazed that he is actually _homesick._ Right now, coursing through Hotch's veins and screaming mutely at the back of his throat, is the absolute need to take his son and his colleague turned friend back to the damned brownstone.

To bring them both home.

"You can't take it on all by yourself, Prentiss." Hotch points out in an attempt to not sound too much like a boss and instead more like a friend. "No one expects you to."

"I'm going to be fine, I know it. We always make it work."

Of course Prentiss is referring to the team when she says "we". She is speaking about every time that a team-member has been put into a situation like this one, where a life in endangered and everyone realizes just how precious life is. It is funny though, how every day their team is faced with how unexpected life can be and what can happen in the blink of an eye yet they all still seem to forget and carry on with their lives, acting as if they will always have the promise of tomorrow, as if they have all the time in the world.

Yet Prentiss doesn't taken her job for granted (well _most_ of the time she doesn't) and she is grateful every day for the staples in her life: her health, her loved ones, her freedom. It is almost sickening to realize that a lot of people don't know what they have before it's gone and in this case it was Emily who would have been gone. One thing that Emily has never forget to appreciate is this, is him. Her boss. Her friend. Aaron Hotchner. Emily cannot ignore the feeling of complete comfort and solace that takes over her whenever Hotch is around nor can the brunette woman under-appreciate the man who opens his arms and home to her on a semi-regular occasion.

He is the man that Prentiss keeps coming back to.

"You need time." It is a weak argument, mostly since Aaron is so emotionally drained that it is unbelievable that he is able to keep himself upright. "Everybody needs some time when shit like this happens."

Having sworn unintentionally, Hotch scrubs his hand over his face in exhaustion and finds Prentiss' eyes.

"Tomorrow once you're well-rested, I'm taking you home and you will take some time off. No _if's_,_ and's _or _but's_."

"I definitely will." Emily replies, throwing her boss for a loop, and seemingly taking pleasure in it. "But don't think I'll be taking months or anything. I want to be back, Hotch. I want to do my job."

Typical. Emily Prentiss is beaten and bloodied but wants to come back to work anyway. Did Aaron honestly believe that would ever change? _Never,_ Hotch almost hopes, because she would no longer be the SSA Prentiss that he admires and is eternally grateful for.

"I want you to get better first and everything else can go on the back burner."

Emily, being sincerely co-operative, rolls from her decubitus to one where she is lying completely on her right side. She is facing Aaron now, who is standing on the side of the room with the door and the bookshelf and the visiting chairs. When the agent looks to her superior with eyes that match her dark hair, she appears kind of disheartened so Hotch takes a few steps forward until he is less than half a foot away from the bed.

Prentiss is lying with her hands pressed under the pillows, a position that the unit chief doesn't think he has ever seen Prentiss in. Her cheek indents the pillow and for a moment Hotch wonders if he should leave now, assuming that the woman wants to go back to sleep. Her voice stops his train of thought instantaneously.

It must be an instinct, Aaron realizes, to stop when one is being spoken to. With Emily, however, the unit chief is eager to drop whatever it is to speak to her, to listen to her. Never once has something out of Prentiss' mouth been something that Aaron has regretted taking the time to listen to. Relaxing his shoulders, exhaling barely noticeably, Hotch braces himself for whatever it is his agent is going to tell him, selfishly wishing that it is nothing too emotional, for her sake but mostly for his because he honestly believes he cannot handle any more of this case.

"Thank you."

How could two little words, the last ones that Hotch ever expected to fall off of Prentiss' lips, hit him so hard? The man steps closer and closer still, until he is touching the bed, until he is close enough to touch her but there remains a chasm between them.

"For working the case?" Hotch responds in question form and not because he doubts that is what the woman is referring to but because he has been using too many demands._ Prentiss doesn't need a boss right now, _Aaron reasons silently. _Emily__ needs a friend._

"For everything."

Two words, four syllables, and oh-so ordinary. Perhaps it is the way that they had been spoken, soft but confidant, falling from the lips of one of the most beautiful people Aaron Hotchner has ever seen that makes them sound like so much more. Aaron wonders how two every day words can mean so much, can fill a whole room and drown out all other foreign noise; the dripping of the IV and the whir of the ceiling fan and the rapid thump of his own heart pushing him from the inside out. Compelled, maybe possessed, Hotch presses his palm against the space that seperates Prentiss' shoulder blades and sits in the space between the lady agent and the edge of the bed.

"You're welcome."

Prentiss, who is touched both physically and emotionally, wants to say something in response but is silenced by the sensation of a firm hand on her back, massaging away her energy, lulling her into a hazy sleep. Emily keeps her hands hidden under the pillows and inches closer to the heat source that is her boss, pressing her abdomen against Hotch's lower back, her cheek still indenting her pillow as she stares at a random spot on the wall directly in her line of vision.

Tired as she might be, Prentiss wills her eyes to stay open, for her body to remain awake. She does not want to fall asleep, not so much in fear of having nightmares, but instead she is nervous to wake up only to discover that the past few days were not just a bad dream but her current reality. Eyelids drooping closed, Emily shifts in her half-asleep state and consequently so does Aaron to accommodate his agent.

Slipping into sleep, Prentiss murmurs in hushed tones. "Hotch?"

"Yes Emily?"

There is a pause, more than a few seconds pass, and Aaron wonders if his friend has finally fallen into oblivion. Looking down at the curtain of beautiful brown hair, Hotch runs his hand down Prentiss' spine and back up, rubbing his thumb against the base of her neck. Aaron was right, she had fallen asleep before she could answer him and even though he doesn't want to let go, the unit chief knows that they cannot stay like this. Not as colleagues or even as companions since both situations pose too much danger.

Stay with Prentiss tonight and Hotch will have some peace of mind but the unit chief knows that he can't because the team is already asking questions that Aaron is in no mood to answer and Emily shouldn't have to, however the alternative is to leave Emily, _again_, and if anything were to happen to her Aaron would never recover from the guilt. A few more minutes, the unit chief decides, and he will leave her to rest. What could go wrong here with Prentiss safely snoozing away under the watchful eyes of some of the FBI's best and brightest as well as a dutiful nurse?

"That's what I thought the last time." Prentiss is sleeping, silent with the exception of her little inhales and exhales, and cannot hear Hotch. The unit chief continues to speak in spite of his friend's oblivion or perhaps because of it. "Sleep tight, Prentiss."

Aaron replies as if Emily actually said anything while he finds some random spot on the wall across from him to stare at. Hotch doesn't know why but even though his mind is telling him to he doesn't move an inch from the bed, he just can't.

* * *

_8:12PM  
Wednesday November 25th 2009  
The Hotchner Household _

_Right as Aaron had been uncapping the bottle of Jack Daniels' there was an all too familiar knock at his door._

_Aaron had been expecting a guest but apparently he had still considered it a good idea to take a shot or two or three before the guest arrived. At the time the dark haired man had considered just licking the top of the bottle clean before tucking it away in the liquor cabinet but decided against it and instead gone to answer the door. It was the middle of the week and it the whole city had already been blanketed in darkness but that hadn't stopped him from staying awake nor had it stopped the arrival of one SSA Emily Prentiss. Twisting the doorknob and tugging it towards himself, Aaron stepped back into his home as an exhausted looking Emily kicked off her shoes._

_"You wouldn't happen to have any Merlot would you? Or uhm, I don't know, slippery nipples? You know what? I don't care! A single shot would be glorious right about now."_

_It had not mattered to Emily at the time that she had sounded like someone desperate to drown their sorrows with alcohol, namely because that was who she had been. Stressed out, sleep deprived, and beyond pissed off. In short: Emily needed a drink. Sore, physically as well as emotionally, Emily had spent the better half of her workday worrying over the impending doom of her one-on-one meeting with Erin Strauss' that each member of the BAU was "requested" to attend. The other few hours of the workday had been wasted on the meeting itself and asking her fellow agents what Strauss had spoken to them about as well as what they told her. _

_Of course Emily had the utmost respect and trust in her team that they would never say anything to incriminate their beloved boss, a man who also happened to have been a victim in a sense, but the brunette woman had to know what was said and done so she could know the next steps and what to expect. Prentiss had never expected that Strauss would be so brutal, at least that had been the overall impression that the team received. Hotch, however, had said nothing. The intrepid unit chief had only assured his agents that no one was in trouble and that everything would remain the same, whatever that had meant._

_Besides after what had happened with Foyet, Haley, and Hotch how could anything be considered "the same" as it was before?_

_It couldn't. Not for a while anyway and the team could see that much while Hotch appeared to sweep the matter under the rug, resuming his usual professional demeanor for the remainder of the day. That was what had set a weird feeling off for Prentiss, who had decided to stay a little later that night, in an attempt to drown her concerns in paperwork and the playlist of melancholic songs on her iPod. It hadn't worked. Not that well, anyway._

_Which was why the dark eyed and dark haired agent had ended up on her boss' doorstep, moody and desperate for something, anything, to make her forget the horrendous day that she had endured._

_"Sorry, Prentiss." Hotch had replied, effectively sounding not at all sorry. "The bar's closed for the night; happy hour is over."_

_"Fine then," Prentiss had responded dryly as she tugged off her jacket. "Don't share. I'm sorry to drop in at random, feel free to kick me out at any time."_

_But Hotch wouldn't, he had yet to anyway, and Prentiss had felt like pushing her luck._

_She needn't worry though when the unit chief hung her jacket in the main hall closet and ushered Emily further into his home. "Why the sudden urge to get plastered, anyway?"_

_Aaron had been unbelievably thankful that he had placed the Jack Daniels' he had out previously away before answering the door. How could Hotch have preached to Prentiss that she shouldn't drink to resolve a bad day when no more than ten minutes prior had he been ready to take a few shots himself? There was no way, plain and simple, which was why Aaron had shut up and offered his friend a seat at the kitchen table along with all the non-alcoholic beverages she could drink. It turned out that Emily Prentiss had a bladder of steel, which kept her from needing to urinate after polishing off half a liter of juice and two bottles of water._

_"Thirsty, Prentiss?"_

_The dark haired and dark eyed agent had said in that deadpan fashion of his, which, on most occasions would have either put Emily on the defensive or would have encouraged her to back off a little. Hotch hadn't know why but Prentiss would usually smile slightly and bring her attention back to whatever it was that she had been doing before he had tried to make a joke, although Aaron had a few ideas. _

_It could have been that Hotch made jokes so rarely that Prentiss did not know what to do with herself once Aaron let one slip out or it could be that she interprets his brand of 'humor' as too dry to respond with laughter. Then again, Prentiss had a bit of a dry streak herself. Sarcastic but with good-hearted teasing in her tone or at least in her pretty brown eyes. Hotch could always tell when Prentiss was joking but sitting there, opposite one another at his kitchen table, the unit chief had not seen the humour that he usually associated with the lady agent. It was all too real, all too serious. _

_"Like you wouldn't believe."_

_"Rough day?"_

_For most people this wouldn't have been as awkward as it was for Aaron, who was still unaccustomed to having people over to his house, especially at night. All hours of the day Hotch would spend with at least one of his team members: inspecting a crime scene, interviewing a suspect, or eating an actual sit down dinner at some restaurant in some other state. Never in his own home, never in the dead of the night, never as anything other than "Hotch". Except with Emily, so it had seemed. _

_It had felt strange for Aaron to see Prentiss letting loose at his kitchen table, talking to him like she had really believed that he could have alleviated her problems. But what did Hotch know about making people feel better? So the unit chief had a career full of consoling the loved ones of God only knows how many victims and talking down criminals with his fine-tuned hostage negotiation skills, __not to mention his twenty-something years as a big brother as well as earning the distinguished position as the head of his own team. _

_So what? _

_That certainly hadn't meant that Hotch would be any good at speaking one-on-one with Emily Prentiss and there had been three reasons for that: Emily was a member of the opposite sex and ergo a complete enigma to Aaron's male mind, Prentiss was a member of his team who was shifting from 'agent' to 'friend' an alarmingly quick speed that Hotch was having some difficulty catching up with, and she was 'Emily Prentiss' and Hotch hadn't understood why but when he spoke to her his words never seemed to come out right._

_"Ever get kicked in the balls?"_

_Hotch had shaken his head 'no', unbelievably grateful, and Prentiss had continued._

_"It was like that except on a continuous loop."_

_Well at least that was what Emily had imagined being kicked in the genitalia would be like, maybe even worse._

_"No one ever said that this job was an easy one, Prentiss."_

_Emily understood what her boss had been referring to, which were the less than pleasant aspects of their job: coming face-to-face with some of the FBI's most wanted, unraveling the secrets of the human mind, having their faith in goodness dwindled down to almost nothingness on a semi-regular basis. And that was after facing the likes of Erin Strauss and other bureaucratic nightmares._

_"She was making you out to be the bad guy, like it was your fault. Can you believe that? Can you believe her?"_

_The agent's words had been spat out, acidic and ugly, angry and stubborn and totally unapologetic. There had been no barriers, no masks, just Emily Prentiss being completely honest with anyone who cared to listen, which had only been Aaron at the time. Wisely, Hotch had remained silent as he poured them both some more water and let his friend wind down._

_"She was doing her job, Prentiss. Picking apart every move we make is a great pass time for the higher-ups."_

_Why had Aaron felt so guilty for speaking his mind like that, with as much poison as he had? Aaron had been right when he said that Strauss was doing her job and she had been sensitive through out their little "meeting", she had offered her support and could have been much more brutal with him, like she clearly had been with the rest of the team. That must have been it. Bullying his team was an unforgivable action, something that Aaron Hotchner would not tolerate, even from a superior or rather especially._

_"Maybe I'm just jaded; I've been around administrative bullshit for so long that I can't take it any more."_

_Emily had dropped her head to the table, resting her ear against the cool surface, looking oh-so exhausted._

_"Funny how you keep getting tangled up in all of it then, huh? Why do you do it?"_

_It had been offhanded, totally flippant, and that had been why Aaron had not been expecting an answer._

_"What do you mean 'why do I do it'?"_

_Hotch had wanted to stop there and take back his words but Prentiss' tone had not been offended or angry, simply inquisitive and genuinely confused; she clearly hadn't been expecting an answer either._

_"You hate politics."_

_A nod: affirmative._

_"Yet you seem to get involved with it enough, usually unintentionally but-" the rest of Aaron's sentence had lingered off, waiting for Emily to finish it for him._

___S__omething had crossed over Emily's expression, like she had tasted sugar when she had been anticipating spice as she deliberated over her own words._  


_"Guess I'm a magnet, I've always attracted the wrong kind of attention."_

_Hotch had taken that as his cue to drop the conversation and offer Emily some water instead._

_"It's been a long day for everyone and-"_

_"I should be going."_

_Going? As in 'leaving'?_

_"It's late."_

_"You don't have to keep me around. I'm not great company right now and you really need your sleep."_

_And her leaving would have persuaded Hotch to sleep? Without someone there to kick him to bed Aaron would never use his mattress._

_"Will you actually sleep if you go home?" It had been challenging and Hotch had been right to assume that Prentiss would take the bait. "Or do you want to spend the night here?"_

_One look from Prentiss and Hotch had known, without a doubt, that he had 'won'._

_Muttering, Emily had followed her boss towards the staircase. "I always forget you were a lawyer in a past life."_

_"Yeah yeah, Prentiss. Keep it moving."_

_"Oooh, I'm sorry. Am I cutting into your precious beauty sleep?"_

_"As a matter of fact-"_

_Smiling to himself, it had astounded Aaron when he realized that just ten minutes prior he had been having a God-awful day._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** I feel that this chapter, as a whole, was not as bad as I originally figured but there are still some things that I wish I had rewritten before posting. Three of main concerns had been: Reid/Renee scene, Hotch/Prentiss scene, and the flashback. What did you all think? Next chapter: Emily comes home! Thank you all so much for sticking with me and special thanks to those who review :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Disenchantment**

**Disclaimer:** As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D

**Genres:** Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

**Rating:** 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

**Spoilers:** Some time during season five, I suppose.

**Summary:** Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

**Date of Completion:** Tuesday July 19 2011

**Author's Comment:** So I disappeared for a long time. But now I'm back. Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm awful. Here's a new chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen. Homecoming**

_"There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again."_

— _Margaret Elizabeth Sangster_

* * *

_8:04AM_  
_Friday March 26th 2010_  
_Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center_

Finally time to go home.

Emily is sitting up in bed, the linens around her hips, watching the sun fill the pale walls with something other than white. Right now she is supposed to be getting dressed but the motivation to do anything but stare at the pale white walls surrounding her have been zapped right out of her. It could not have been only a few days since Monday, since she was living a relatively normal life, since she was safe and things finally seemed to looking up after the craptastic year that their team had endured. Now there is just another scar on the SSA's history or rather _multiple_ scars to add.

Silently, the dark brown haired woman pulls the shirt that Hotch and Rossi brought her over her head and then carefully tugs on the pair of pants, Emily wishes that she could see how bad she must look so that she can try to hide all the nasty bruises and other imperfections. Next on went a pair of socks and it takes a moment for the thought to catch up but when it does Emily feels panicked and embarrassed; she is not wearing a bra.

JJ had told her that Dave and Hotch picked her up a few things, necessities, she had said. The two of them must have forgotten a bra or they did not know what type to buy her or they had just felt too awkward to do so but in any case the end result remains the same. It is no big deal; Emily reasons with herself but deep down she cannot help but dwell on it. Just how long will it be until Emily can take care of herself entirely and will no longer need her team to do it for her? Can she really blame her team for worrying? For God's sake, Emily could not even save herself, which was probably the worst part of the sick story that has become the last four or so days of her life.

A knock at the door takes Prentiss from her thoughts.

"Come in."

The doorknob twists and a head pokes in. It's Morgan.

"Hey Em, how are you holding up?"

Derek looks so sweet, all caring and soft-spoken, and Emily supposes it is wrong to be tired of it already but she can't help it. Her mother was right; Emily can be _such_ a cynic.

"It looks worse than it actually is, Morgan." At the doubtful look on the handsome man's face, Prentiss presses her point. "I promise."

"You ready then?"

Morgan doesn't say it out loud but Prentiss hears it hanging on the end of his question anyway and she knows that he isn't just talking about heading back toQuantico. Assuring her friend that she is, in fact, feeling up to getting the Hell out of the sanitary prison that she has been stuck in overnight, Emily informs Derek that she won't fight him about being pushed in a wheelchair so long as she gets shotgun. Smartly, Morgan plays along and their conversation falls right back into place, like it has only been minutes since they last saw each other and the circumstances were completely different.

It is almost normal and that, by itself, is enough to bring a small smile to Emily's tired face.

"Be right back, Princess."

Reclining in the bed, Emily watches as Derek retreats, off to grab that wheelchair for her. Maybe things are shifting back to normal already.

No more than a second late there is another knock and Emily is pretty certain that it is Morgan again. _"Yes?"_

To Prentiss' surprise she is wrong because it is Dave who she can see slipping through the threshold.

"You almost look as bad as the rest of us."

Smiling just a little bit, the lady agent waves Rossi towards her.

"Yeah, you guys do kinda look like crap. Tell me, have you all been camped out overnight?"

Rossi lets a small laugh escape and his whole face changes from tired to thankful, concerned to amused, saddened to pleasant.

"Should I even bother lying?" He skips a beat and then resumes speaking. "Yeah, didn't think so. Now how are you doing cara?"

"Better now, much better actually." Prentiss is honest, tired but honest, and presses her head back into her pillow.

"We'll be out of here as soon as we can, no need to tell us twice, Prentiss."

At that statement the brunette woman smiles slyly. "I've never been any good with subtly have I?"

She is speaking rhetorically but Emily can still see the answer in Dave' eyes. The younger agent smiles, mainly to prove to her friend that she still can, and shoos him away to tell the rest of the team that she is more than ready to get of here.

"I'll go alert the team, take it easy why don't you?"

There is a retort on the tip of her tongue but she somehow manages to suppress herself until the Italian-American agent leaves the room. Once he does she is left in the room alone. Again.

* * *

_8:21AM__  
__Friday March 26th 2010_  
_Virgo__, Virginia, USA_

Morgan is glaring out the window, his attention dashing at everything that the vehicle passes, which includes pedestrians and scenery and road signs that Prentiss supposes comes as some kind of threat in her over-protective co-worker's mind. Although the woman can hardly blame him, considering what has transpired throughout the week, she still wishes that maybe he could just settle down for a few moments. Like Rossi, for example, who is being pretty quiet from his seat on the brunette woman's right. The Italian agent has been offering bits and pieces of conversation but nothing too substantial and Emily isn't sure if she prefers it this way or not so she, like he, remains silent for the most part.

To her credit JJ is attempting to make conversation.

The liaison is kind and soft-spoken, like a mother and friend should be, but Emily cannot seem to find the words to tell her beloved blonde friend that she doesn't need that right this moment. On Prentiss' left, the beautiful blue-eyed and blonde haired woman speaks about everything under the sun without saying very much at all and it amazes Emily how that's even possible. Is it always like this after things go horribly wrong? To be frank, Prentiss can't really remember the aftermath of events like these. The brown-eyed agent is hard-pressed to recall how she had felt when the team had spoken to her after Cyrus or Matthew or The Fox. It's always been easier just to move on.

In the driver's seat is the fearless team-leader, who is either being a cautious driver by keeping his attention solely on the road or is trying desperately to avoid the one-sided conversation that JJ is carrying on in the backseat. Prentiss doesn't mind though, she doesn't need Hotch to stop for her even after all that has happened in the past week and in the years prior. Maybe, Emily supposes, she has never _really_ needed him and only _believed_ that she did. Perhaps Prentiss has been duped in moments of weakness, in which Hotch has appeared so strong and heroic, and has allowed herself to think that she could actually be fixed.

It must have been the idea of him, of needing and being needed that had attracted her so blindly.

No, she's never needed him.

No way. Not her. Not ever.

After all she _is_ a Prentiss and a Prentiss is nothing if not self-reliant, good at getting what they want and above all else_proud._ Beside Emily a cell phone chirps to life and everyone but Hotch has turned their attention to it. JJ hits a button and holds the device to her ear.

"Jennifer Jareau."

There is silence and the lady agent wonders if it is out of respect, curiosity or suspense.

"Hey Spence, yeah, we're in the car now. Uh-huh, of course. I'm pretty sure, no really. Okay, do you want to talk to her? Okay, just a sec."

The blonde mouths the words "for you" to Emily despite the fact the aforementioned agent is the only other female currently in theYukonand nonetheless, Prentiss, who is polite and interested, takes the phone.

"Hey there, boy genius."

_"Emily! How are you?"_

"I'm great, peachy in fact. How are _you_?"

_"Well I'm fine but I haven't been..."_

"You can say it Reid. I won't bite."

_"I didn't think you would, it's just I can't judge how sensitive you'll be to certain topics so I find it safest to approach with caution."_

"I sure did miss you, Doc."

_"I've never been very good with social graces, Emily. I've missed you too."_

"You got that one right."

_"Because it isn't a mannerism, it's genuine. I'm glad you're okay; you are okay, aren't you?"_

"What part of '_peachy_' did you not understand?"

_"No one is going to be fine, let alone 'peachy', after what has happened."_

"I am."

_"I'm glad you answered; they said you were sleeping the last time I called."_

"When'd you call?"

_"Last night around nine o'clock; Morgan told me you were beat and I was worried and-"_

"He didn't mean it literally, you know."

_"Apparently not. I don't understand why people use expressions when literalism is so much easier to follow."_

"We do it just to bother you, didn't you get the memo?"

_"I'll never understand yours and Morgan's perverse obsession with mocking me. But you're well-rested now and I hope you've ate."_

"You worry too much; has no one ever told you that?"

_"You have a number of times actually and JJ and my—"_

"Reid."

_"I'll still worry though, every time something bad happens or might happen."_

"I think JJ is running out of minutes; I should hang up."

_"Good idea, I'll speak to you when you get back, okay?"_

"Of course, can't wait. See you then."

_"Bye."_

There is a dial tone but it is far away to Prentiss, who absently-mindedly hits the "End" button before handing the device back to its owner.

"What'd Reid have to say?" Morgan asks from the passenger seat, his eyes set on Prentiss through the rearview mirror.

"He's nervous as usual and glad I'm okay."

A pause fell and Emily is not even going to pretend she doesn't know why.

"Because, you know, I am. Perfectly fine."

Rossi nods his head and drawls slowly, "oh we know."

After that no one says much of anything.

* * *

_4:45PM__  
__Friday March 26th 2010_  
_The Hotchner Household_

Subconsciously, Hotch grasps his gun in his holster when he hears the doorbell ring even though he is certain there is no real danger. Prentiss shoots him a look that reads, _oh please,_so he drops it for now. As it turns out there is no danger, only Jane dropping Jack off.

"Hey, Mr. Hotchner, how's it going with your—_uhm_—latest case?" The teenager asks tentatively, unsure of how else to broach the topic properly.

Jack, who is seemingly unaware of the deeper meaning behind his father and babysitter's conversation, busies himself with stripping off his backpack, jacket and running shoes. Hotch quickly hugs his son and then looks back up at his sitter with a smile. "Fantastic; we caught him."

Jane's whole body relaxes, "oh thank gosh, and her?"

"All in one piece," Hotch assures her and as he thanks her again and they bid their goodbyes Jack is left wondering.

The five year old looks up at his father and speaks what's on his mind, "you catched a bad guy, Daddy?"

And all Hotch can do is break out in a smile even though sadness hints on the corners. "Me and the team, buddy, which reminds me that I've got a special surprise for you."

Suddenly there are fireworks in the boy's eyes and his smile is full-fledged, "a surprise?"

Before Hotch has the chance to answer his son both of the Hotchner's hear footsteps coming down the stairwell and when they turn their attention to the sound in question they are met with the smiling face of a woman in flannel pajama pants and pastel purple tank top with her dark hair framing her face.

"Aunt Em'ly!" Jack cries out as he rushes towards the stairwell, embracing Prentiss' shins eagerly. Falling to her knees so she is near the same height, Emily wraps her arms around the boy's body, hugging him as tightly as she can.

"Ahh, you hug too hard." Jack complains as he wiggles around in her embrace, unintentionally forcing Hotch to remember the last time Jack had said that, which had been to his mother. Emily pulls away a little and apologizes; "oh I'm so sorry, baby, I just missed you _so_much."

Not understanding what his "aunt" is talking about, Jack makes a funny face at her odd behavior. "You were here Tuesday. And I'm not a baby, I'm four."

Oh God how she had missed how Jack pronounced it "choose-day" instead of "Twos-day" but rather than saying anything Emily just kisses Jack's cheeks, forehead, nose, and temples for she cannot believe how relieved she is to see this sweet little boy again.

"Eww," Jack whines but he is giggling to as he tries to wipe off the kisses. "Girl cooties."

Aaron rolls his eyes but there is no denying the small smile that is playing on his face, which contrasts with the full-blown smile that is worn on Emily's. Picking herself off of her knees, the lady agent hoists Jack on to her hip Prentiss walks towards Hotch with a smile plastered across her face. "Actually I missed more than just one Hotchner."

"But you see Daddy ev'ry day, Aunt Em'ly." The young boy points out as he plays with Prentiss' long dark hair.

_Not every day,_ Hotch thinks bitterly although it doesn't project on his face.

Certainly Hotch sees a lot of Prentiss, both during the job as well as on their personal time but once she had disappeared he hadn't realized how much more time he could have spent with her. There were countless cases that he could have teamed up with her and a number of evenings which he could have spent an hour longer out with the team; time that could have been spent with the ones that he loves rather than in his own lonely home. But Prentiss... well Hotch never really thought about her impact on his life until there was a crisis, that is.

Supportive and understanding, the raven-haired woman had been there for him in almost every way possible without pushing him but still keeping him on track. Now that Aaron thinks back on it, the months and even years leading up to this, there is a lot more that he wishes he had done to show Prentiss how much her friendship means to him especially after the week they've been through. Hell why hadn't he spent one more goddamn minute in bed with her in the morning during the few mornings that she stuck around? The adage _'you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone'_ comes to mind but Aaron pushes it aside, choosing to commit the image of Jack in Prentiss' arms to his memory instead.

"You'd think I'd get sick and tired of him," she says it teasingly because Emily has never said a single thing to hurt Hotch.

Jack smiles with his eyes lit up like the fourth of July as he continues on the conversation: "Guess what I did in school!"

"Hmm, you made an art project?" Head shakes no and hair flops in every direction.

"Field trip to the moon?" It's sweet how Emily plays along; how she goes out of her way to be okay.

"I give up, Jack." She replies, shifting the boy's weight over her hip. "What did you do in school?"

"A new kid came to school and we're friends now."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm, his name's Rory."

"And is Rory nice?"

"He's from Pencil-Pencil-"

"Vania?"

"Yeah!"

Hotch watches the scene unfold from the sidelines, amused and disheartened by the back-and-forth. Smiling a smile that reaches her eyes, Prentiss moves towards the kitchen, "well I would love to meet Rory fromPennsylvaniasometime."

Following her lead, Hotch moves along inches behind her, watching as she carries his son with ease that he is dying to see more of.

"I dunno where he lives." The unit chief can hear the innocent pout in his son's tone, his eyes wide open, looking to Emily for the answer.

"Okay then, when you see him again on Monday I will write you a note with your phone number and address on it to give to give to Rory and you can ask him to call that night so you can get his phone number and house address. How about that?"

Vigorously, Jack nods along to Emily as she sets him down on the kitchen counter, grabbing a pad of paper and stray pen, printing as neatly as Hotch has ever seen her penmanship, and hands it over to his young son once she is done with Jack's contact information. "You need to put this in your backpack right away so that you have it on Monday, you got that?"

Eager, the four year nods and takes the note, rushing to his backpack to tuck it away. As he makes his way back to the kitchen he is stopped by the low voices of his father and aunt. It's the kitchen, which is part of the house, and Jack knows he is allowed everywhere in the house whenever he wants (except his Daddy's room and the bathroom since he has to knock first) but there is something that wills the boy from making his presence known to the two adults. Instead, he presses up against the wall, and strains to listen. It almost feels wrong but they're speaking in quiet voices and if that didn't send warning bells off in Jack's head he would later, much later, decide that he simply wasn't observant enough.

"God is he amazing, Hotch."

"Yeah, he really is but it's been a long day and you don't have—"

"I want to. I've missed him—you—and I love him."

There is this pause and for a half a second, Jack wonders what is happening because neither his father or Emily are saying anything and he can't see them well at all from his angle. Did his aunt say something wrong? Or did they leave the kitchen? Holding his breath the young boy decides to wait a few more seconds and if nothing happens only then will he peek around the corner.

_One Mississippi._

_Two Mississippi._

_Three Missis-_

"He loves you too, he'll understand if you—"

"Hotch, please, hear me out: I will not let this get in the way of my life and especially not yours and Jack's, I couldn't live with myself if I did."

"That doesn't mean you can't slow down, you need some time to—"

"I know, I know, but can it wait just _one_ night?"

"You shouldn't over-exert yourself after everything especially before you've had some proper rest."

"I will get some rest, I promise, but first can we just try and enjoy tonight?"

"Okay but if you—"

"No, I got it, completely understood."

"It's just that we're all worried, Prentiss."

"I know and that means the world to me, it's what makes you guys family, I just need to know we can have things be normal for _one_ night first."

Taking this as his cue, Jack steps through the threshold, and instantly he is the center of his father's attention. It's something like a superpower to Jack, how, regardless of what his father is preoccupied with, the moment that he steps into the room he is the star. Before his mother went to Heaven to live with the angels, Jack had that same power with his mother, but only to an extent. His father, however, would still field phone calls or plow through the never-ending piles of paperwork that covered his desk.

But now that it is only Jack and his dad (as well as his aunts Jessica and Emily), the young boy is acutely aware of his importance to his father and rarely uses that for manipulation. However, he doesn't see how in this instance, where his father and aunt Emily are not "fighting" but "talking" in the adult way that sounds a whole lot like fighting yet is apparently very different but really probably isn't, Jack shouldn't be allowed to step in to take the attention off whatever it is they are "talking" about.

"Hey there, sport." His dad looks away from Emily and tries to smile but Jack can see through it. It's the fake smile that he wears when Jack talks about his mom or when his aunt Jessica tells him to stop working all the time. He means to be happy but it doesn't seem to work 100% perfect.

"Is aunt Em'ly sick?"

The reactions are not expected but Jack appreciates them all the same, after all, it's nice to see his father's face in some other shape than tired.

"No, why would you think that?"

Because they've been talking behind Jack's back and smiling to his face the same way people always did after his mom went to Heaven and because his dad is telling his aunt to get some rest and that "they" (whoever "they" are) worry over her. No one keeps secrets about unimportant stuff, Jack knows that much. And Aunt Emily has been acting weird anyways, not her usual self, but the same kind of fake smile adults use when they want kids to think everything is okay even though it's not. It's a smile that hurts for the young boy to look at but he can't turn away because they're trying so hard and he doesn't like letting them down. Aunt Emily never used to do that but today she's acting all anti-aunt and no one is telling Jack why.

"Coz' you're all weird."

His aunt laughs but it sounds like when he hits against something that's empty on inside, Jack searches for the word. _Hollow_. She sounds hollow. Plus her smile is poking the corners of her cheeks but instead of the silly smile he usually sees it looks like she's wearing a mask: fake.

"Oh honey, I've always been pretty weird."

"Yeah but this time you're not happy 'bout it."

Instantly Jack regrets speaking his thoughts aloud, he wishes he could draw all the words back into his mouth and swallow them in one big lump, so that Emily never had to hear them. He sees the way her smile quivers, just the slightest bit, and can't ignore how she's trying not to blink. For a moment the boy wonders if she'll cry and he honestly believes that if he sees that happen, while knowing he's the cause for it, he just might break under pressure.

Before he can say anything to help the situation, Jack is swept up in his father's arms and told that his aunt is fine, although even he doesn't seem all that sure. Jack looks to Emily, while not sure what he's searching for, and is met with a sad smile that makes the boy think of his mother before she died. It was the face she had on whenever Jack's dad said he would be staying overnight somewhere far away from home and she didn't want Jack to know how much she didn't like that.

"Your dad's right, kiddo, don't worry."

There are words on the tip of his tongue but the last time he spoke he said everything wrong. This time he tries a smile. "What's for dinner?"

* * *

_8:16PM__  
__Friday March 26th 2010_  
_The Hotchner Household_

"I really think you should get some sleep, Emily." Hotch informs the aforementioned woman who is currently resting on the couch, swallowing yawns, and watching Jack play with some toys on the floor in front of her. Her head rotates to where Hotch is entering the living room.

"Hmm- I'm not that tired, thanks."

Walking around the couch, Hotch looks between his son and his friend, wondering if this is a domestic scene that Prentiss had been involved in for the past few days.

"Well I _know_that's it time for you to go to sleep, buddy." The unit chief states as he drops to the floor next to Jack whom, in response, frowns and looks up at his father.

"But Aunt Em'ly doesn't havta." The boy argues, nowhere close to a tantrum but still stubborn.

Aaron frowns a little, mirroring his son, and glances back at Prentiss, who is half asleep on the couch despite her earlier dismissal of sleep.

"Actually Jackie, I have to go to hit the sack too." Emily surrenders out of nowhere whilst she rolls off of the couch. "Your Daddy's right; you and I need our sleep."

At this admission of the truth Aaron's lips curl up into a small but genuine smile. "So you're finally going to get some proper rest?"

"Only if you do," Emily winks but Aaron can hear the seriousness in her tone, he nods in agreement and scoops his son up so that all three of them can head up the stairs.

On their way to the master bedroom, Hotch and Prentiss pass Jack's room but once they try to let him go the young boy is persistent in his desire to sleep in the same bedroom as them. Unsure, Hotch and Prentiss don't understand seeing how Jack doesn't know about what had happened or why it was such a big deal for both his father and his "aunt" to be home, together, after days of separation and frankly neither adult wants to give Jack any details.

"I dunno why you and Aunt Em'ly are acting so weird but I wanna stay with you."

Now how could they say "no" to_that_?

"Of course you can, baby." Emily informs Jack after asking Aaron with her eyes. "But you need to get changed and washed up, okay?"

Hopping out of his father's arms with a hasty "_kay_", Jack rushes into his own room to change out of his jeans and t-shirt and into pajamas.

Continuing on their way towards the master bedroom, Hotch and Prentiss don't speak but they aren't left with an awkward silence either, they just don't think saying anything at this point is that important. When they enter the bedroom they divide with Prentiss heading towards the bed and Hotch off to find something to wear. From her side of the mattress Prentiss keeps her eye on the closed closet door, imagining Hotch changing out of his white button down shirt and slacks into pajamas.

Of course Prentiss isn't being graphic, picturing her boss' hands groping for clothing, his bare body flexing and stretching. Not that, she simply couldn't. Instead she is thinking about how nice it is to not be in a bedroom that is scary and unfamiliar as well as how wonderful it feels to know that she will be falling asleep with a man whom she has known and cared for instead of someone who was making her play "pretend". Emily doesn't even notice that she is still staring off into space when Hotch exits the closet in a pair of navy blue pajamas; he meets her gaze.

"How are you feeling, Prentiss?" Aaron asks, effectively shattering the silence. "Honestly."

Her face is wiped of most emotion so she really just looks _tired_ more than anything else.

"Like…like…" Emily struggles, unable to articulate her feelings, "like I've finally come home."

Hotch feels both thankful and sorry. "I shouldn't have left you alone." He states in that matter-of-fact tone of his.

Prentiss' eyes, expression, and body language soften. "I shouldn't have played along."

"It saved your life." Aaron points out as he tugs at the covers, fitting himself inside them.

"The_team_saved my life." Emily stresses, facing her friend. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Refusing her thanks (because honestly why should she thank him for doing his job as well as wanting her back?) Hotch pushes some hair away from Prentiss' face. "You don't have to thank us." The dark-haired, dark-eyed man confides softly. "I'm just sorry we weren't faster."

Emily sighs, "Oh, Hotch." She speaks softly, stroking her friend's stubble clad cheek. "You really need to start taking care of yourself, you know that right?"

Raising an eyebrow, Hotch does something completely unexpected to both Prentiss and himself. The unit chief rolls her on to her back and looks down at her surprised face, the one that he has been trying to update in his memory all day. "Lead by example, Agent Prentiss." He whispers with a solemn expression on his face.

Prentiss laughs outright and Hotch smiles. The lady agent's teeth are showing and the unit chief's dimples are adorable. Prentiss is tempted to kiss each indentation and Aaron is fantasizing about her pretty lips. "Hypocrite," she teases, this time making _him_laugh. And then they both laugh and laugh and laugh until she feels tears prick her eyes and he feels pains in his sides. They don't know why they are laughing so hard or for so long but they know that they don't want to stop, not now or ever.

"What's so funny?" A curious voice asks from the threshold, neither adult had to think to know it was Jack.

Rolling off of Emily, Aaron waves his son over to him and Prentiss, "Nothing, buddy."

Little eyebrows rise as Jack climbs into the space between his father and Emily, "_Really?_"

Emily laughs a little and kisses the young boy's forehead. "_Really,_" she assures him with a smile. "After all you know that your daddy doesn't have a sense of humor."

Aaron rolls his eyes but is sporting a small smirk of his own, "oh very clever, Prentiss."

Situated between the two adults, Jack watches the verbal back-and-forth happening before him. First Emily says something and his father throws it back and soon enough one of them 'wins' so the other just stops trying. Jack is about to delve deeper when his aunt scoots over to offer him more room, which he makes himself comfortable in. The whole scene is fine, great really, with the three of them looking so at peace for once in almost a week. Then, out of nowhere, there is the slightest sound and a previously relaxed Aaron Hotchner is in Unit Chief mode. Just like that.

"I'll be right back."

It isn't so much a statement of what Aaron will be doing as it is a demand of what Emily and Jack will be doing, staying put that is. No questions asked and this time Prentiss thinks that she'll let it slide, namely because she doesn't feel like putting up a fight and the look on her boss' face is keeping her from opening her mouth.

"Where are you going?"

Aaron looks back at his son for a split-second and his stomach knots; how is he supposed to explain to a child?

"He needs a drink, sweetie." Prentiss, God bless her, jumps in. "He'll be right back."

When Emily says that last part, repeating what Hotch has just said, their eyes lock and the man nods a reassuring nod that really isn't all that reassuring. Jack, who is only somewhat satisfied with the answer provided, opts not to press the conversation and instead watches the brunette woman watch his father leave the room and it doesn't take much for the boy to know that his father has anything but thirst on his mind.

"Em'ly?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Daddy's not thirsty."

There is a pause and even though Prentiss supposes that this moment shouldn't be as awkward as it clearly is that fact does so little to alleviate the tension; she has been caught in a lie by a four year old. Swallowing, which hurts due to the sudden lump in her throat, the dark haired-dark eyed woman sinks further into the mattress. What is she supposed to say? _'Yeah, you're right hon; your father is really double-checking for psychopaths who plan on abducting us in our sleep. Sweet dreams!'_ Treading on the topic lightly, Prentiss brushes some hair from Jack's face even though it isn't long enough to get in the way.

"No he's not."

Silence falls around the woman and child, heavy and familiar, whilst both look directly at the bedroom door.

"What's going on you two?" Hotch queries as he enters through the threshold with a glass of water in one hand.

"Nothing," the brunette woman replies as she relaxes into the bed and Hotch comes around the mattress to his side.

Sitting the half empty glass on the nightstand, Hotch climbs on to the mattress and crawls under the covers, feeling both Emily and Jack shift along with him as he makes himself comfortable. They've done this before—the three of them—not very often but enough to know the routine. However, tonight is different, for the painfully obvious reason but also in subtler ways. Jack, for example, is quieter than he has been all day, and Aaron doubts that it is sleep finally catching up on the young boy.

Out of the corner of his eye Hotch watches as his son lies on his chest and faces towards him with his eyes closed. Opposite the four year old, the lady agent lies on her right side so that she is facing the window, her legs bent upwards. The unit chief wants to tell Emily that she doesn't need to be scared right now, that she doesn't have to keep vigil on the window and bedroom door but can simply sleep easily tonight.

However that would mean that Hotch would be lying and that would be pointless because despite the fact that it is what he _wants_for Jack, Emily, the rest of the team, as well as the world at large—for everyone to feel safe, that is—Hotch knows better than most that it isn't always going to happen. Concurrently, Aaron is dreadfully aware that as long as he has his job that peace of mind will be unachievable.

"Goodnight Jack."

Aaron speaks quietly, firmly, as though what he is saying is more of a demand than fatherly well wishing. Blankets muffle Jack's reply as well as half-sleep, which is nice only because it is anticipated. Right now, Hotch needs that normalcy.

"Goodnight Emily."

This time there is an eerie lack of a response, almost ominous really. No noise and no movement, nothing but still darkness. It takes a few drawn out moments but when it's spoken aloud Jack is already off in a land of dreams, Hotch is uncharacteristically relaxed and Prentiss is... _deflated._

"Sweet dreams."

* * *

_7:03AM__  
__Saturday March 27th 2010_  
_The Hotchner Household_

Awake for more than two and half-hours now, Aaron sits upright in his bed. His back is slumped against the headboard; his eyes are on the two other occupants in his bed and he is doing a rather fine job of driving himself insane. For the hours in which Aaron was asleep the SSA had been extremely restless, the slightest of movements and noises waking him, terrifying him. Nervous, he had started checking and double-checking and triple checking that his son was between he and Emily and that she was, in fact, still there.

It had been a nerve-wracking week and for Aaron that meant once Emily was finally back—in Quantico, the BAU, his house, hers—he and the team could try to sleep properly for the first time in the past five days. He had only been somewhat right. Emily, for the most part, had slept quite soundly with the exception of a few tosses and turns, barely anything to take note of. Jack, who also has been sleeping quite well, has barely moved a muscle since he had crawled under the covers the previous evening. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, it had been Hotch who had suffered the most.

So now he is lying in bed, doing nothing more than staring at some blank patch on the wall, willing everything to go away. It is instances like these that Aaron wishes he were better at dealing with emotions, both his personal ones as well as others. As he drops his gaze to the lump in the comforter that he has come to recognize as a sleeping Jack and Emily, Aaron remembers something that his female agent had once said as a flippant excuse, if anything. _"I guess I'm better at compartmentalizing than other people."_

If only everyone could be so fortunate.

It's all about Emily, he tells himself. He drills this truth into his head until he's sick of hearing it and when he gets too frustrated to go on he switches it to just her name, a reminder of what is really important right now. He says it over and over and over and over again: _it's not about me, it's about her. Emily. This is about Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily._

And Hotch feels awful, truly awful, because even though he knows it's wrong because Prentiss is the one who needs the support and the strength right now Aaron is still lying in bed thinking about how angry _he_ is about his friend being taken from him and in his very own home, how frustrated _he_ was when they couldn't find her right away, how heartbroken _he_ was to see Prentiss has battered as she was.

_Selfish,_ he accuses himself.

But is it really? Of course it was Prentiss who was the victim: taken away in the middle of the night, locked up and required to play house with her captor, subjected to God only knows what kind of abuse. However, it was Aaron Hotchner and his team who were left as the family members who don't know how to pickup the pieces. It's not just him, Aaron realizes but not for the first time. It's Reid, who looks to Emily as an older sister and confidant. It's Derek and Rossi, the two people who are so similar to Emily that sometimes they just can't stand it. It's JJ and Penelope who were left fretting over the lost link of their trio of brilliant, passionate, stunning women.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees something, someone.

In the windowpane, a silhouette of a person, whose fingers are fiddling with the locking mechanism. Instantly, Aaron is depleted of oxygen. The window lifts just an inch, slow motion, before being forced upwards as a leg slips over the sill. Not again, Aaron thinks. Too soon. His arm flings towards the nightstand table, he fumbles with the drawer, and he retrieves one of his service weapons.

Then he sees the man; tall and built, disguised in black, with of his own gun already drawn. Except it's not pointed at Hotch and it takes a split-second for the unit chief to realize who's in the bed with him: Jack and Emily. Hotch doesn't know what move to make next (hell, he can hardly even hear himself think over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears) and the man is taking miniature steps forward, slow and steady, like he's taunting Aaron. Honestly, Hotch wouldn't put it past him.

"Put the gun down."

The words come out stronger than Hotch had anticipated but they don't seem to do anything.

"I said put your weapon down!"

There's no way Aaron can negotiate his way out of this, mainly because he doesn't know enough about the Unsub, but he's compelled to try, all things considered.

"Who are you?"

Peeling the black mask away, the man stands with his Glock pointed directly towards a soundly sleeping Jack and Emily, whose chests are rising and falling in accordance to one another but the rhythm dies mid-breath once a bullet enters Jack's back and exits Emily's. Aaron doesn't think, he doesn't blink or breathe, he just presses and he can feel the bullet leaving the barrel of his service weapon.

The man staggers slightly, a blow but not a bad one so Aaron pulls the trigger again. Stumbling backwards, hand over heart, the man doesn't say a word as a third bullet propels through him, this time in his gut. Blood pours out but still no words. Back to the wall, the man begins to slide down to the carpeted floor but as he does Hotch is sure to make one final shot—the icing on the cake—and it is just as sweet.

Blood splatters across the man's face until it's impossible for Hotch to see anything but the color red, which is infinitely better than what he just had to face.

Disgusted, Aaron turns from the mess of the man on his bedroom floor only to find a single bullet wound penetrating the pajama clad back of his young son and the blood soaked tank-top of his friend. Vomit inches up the back of his throat; he's going to be sick. He refrains though, instead curling his fingers so tight around his Glock, the one that feels unnaturally light in his hand, and presses it too harshly against his left temple. His eyes open the entire time.

"Hotch... Hotch... Hotch." The voice is distant, feminine, familiar and Aaron wishes he could answer back.

Paralyzed, Aaron doesn't feel her hands on his bicep, holding him awkwardly, yes, but it was the thought that counted. "Are you okay, Hotch?"

"Emily?" Her name comes out as a question and before this moment he has never felt so unsure of her, afraid that she might not exist at all.

The wall is sprayed red, unholy and undeniable, which Aaron cannot tear his eyes from. He sees the spatter pattern, he sees the man sliding down the wall, he sees the expression on the man's face as he loses is grip and falls to the floor. The images are stuck on a constant loop in Hotch's head and even though he knows, according to his rational mind, that what he is replaying is all made up the truth does little to make shake away his concerns. Beside him firm, feminine hands run up and down his arm, intimacy on a whole other playing field; unfamiliar to touching like this. Hotch lets out a shaky breath and the fingers on his bare bicep tremble, afraid of having hurt him.

Impossible.

"You're still here?" It sounds like a statement to her, he supposes, but it really isn't.

Her voice is quiet but full of assurance, assurance that only proves she knows there's something to worry about, "of course."

"I woke you." Aaron knows that if he stops talking Emily will know that something is awry and the last thing that he wants right now is for her to be asking any more questions. And yet he can't stop staring at the Goddamn wall, which he's certain Emily will soon catch on to.

Quickly, Emily pounces on the silence but she's playing it by ear and doesn't know what she's going to say next. "It's okay-"

"You weren't sleeping anyway." He doesn't mean to sound so harsh, he honestly doesn't, but it comes out rough and upset. Not at Prentiss though, never at Prentiss, but at everything else. The fact that this is the first morning they've spent together it what feels like eons, that Hotch has been having nightmares, and that Prentiss hasn't been sleeping as soundly as usual because every little noise has left her rattled.

The mattress sinks on Prentiss' side and her hair is fanned across the pillows, words muffled by linen, she tells Hotch to "try and get some rest." Aaron wants to but soon realizes he won't when every time he closes his eyes all he sees is the colour red sprayed across the back of his eyelids and his reflection staring right back.

* * *

_6:20AM__  
__Sunday November 8th 2009_  
_The Hotchner Household_

_Neck aching, eyes crusted shut, and parted chapped lips are how she had woken that dark November morning. Limbs had been bent in all sorts of awkward shapes so that the agent was able fit in the chair comfortably without falling off, which had taken some effort on her part but it had been worth it in the end. Stretching herself out, the lady agent had rubbed her eyes to adjust to the dim setting of the room that had enclosed her. Something was off but at the time she had simply written it off as sleepiness. Prentiss, only half awake, had shaken her head of all disjointed thoughts before she scanned her surroundings for anything out of place. At first, there had been nothing but upon a second glance something had caught her eye._

_One SSA Aaron Hotchner was sprawled across what Emily had only just realized was his own bed, beneath some rumpled covers, dead to the world._

_Now that had been a wake-up call if Prentiss had ever needed one._

_Aaron Hotchner, as in 'Hotch'. Hotch who Emily should not have been sharing a bedroom with unless they had been on some undercover op or they had been bunking in some no name hotel during a case. Certainly not as personally—intimately—as the man's own bedroom with no professional motive in place whatsoever. Why had she even been there? The female SSA had backtracked, her eyes squeezed shut or else they would've stayed stuck on Hotch, and she had finally come to the conclusion that she had spent the night with her boss, in his bedroom. Oh God, that had been all kinds of inappropriate._

_But it hadn't been. Honestly. It had been completely and irrefutably innocent. The two of dark haired-dark eyed agents had spent the night with one another but it wasn't in any other context but friendship. Right?_

_"Hotch?" It was but a timid whisper and when a half a minute passed without response, Emily had let go of the breath she had been holding. "Hoootch?"_

_Nothing._

_Unfolding her legs, Emily had pushed herself up from her seat, and felt the earth twirl all around her. Balance found, the lady agent had ventured a first few steps, towards the sleeping figure of her boss and had somehow repressed the desire to poke him to see if he was really there. He had shifted in his sleep, just a few inches but it had rattled Prentiss all the same, which had encouraged her to back away from the unit chief and make her way to the bedroom door, not forgetting to pick up her disbanded cell phone as she had silently padded out of the bedroom. Briefly, Prentiss had considered closing the door behind her but decided against it in the off chance that the sudden noise would waken her superior, which would surely put them both in an awkward 'morning after' position._

_Except for the fact that the cliché hangover moment would have been preferable at the time, seeing how they hadn't even had sex the night before. After all, what were they expected to say to one another given the circumstances? "Well, I had a great time but you don't have to call or anything."_

_It hadn't been like that, no, instead the conversation probably would have gone something like, "Well, I'm glad that we're both over a respective emotional breakdowns so I'm just gonna head out now and I'll see you bright and early on Monday, right? Okay, yeah, seeya!"_

_No, Emily hadn't thought so either. So she had been trying to make that difficult morning just a bit easier on both agents by allowing herself a few moments to collect and organize her thoughts before having to go back into that bedroom and face Hotch.__Oh sweet Jesus, she hadn't had a clue._

_"It's was just one night, you were being a good friend and he was being a good friend, nothing else to it, right? Right. You slept on the chair and he slept in his bed and now he's still asleep and you're going to straighten up and leave a note and high-tale it right the Hell out of here, aren't you? Exactly, good girl."_

_She had been whispering to herself in hushed tones, assured that if made even a peep that Hotch would re-enter the land of the living and she would be faced with the incredibly uncomfortable reality that they had spent the night together. As friends, of course, but nonetheless. Splashing some water on her face, Emily had tried to calm herself down while in the upstairs bathroom, but it seemed that the cold liquid did little to calm her reckless nerves. In the mirror, she had searched herself for answers to the dozens of questions rushing through her mind at the time._

_What had they done the previous night?_

_Why had she stayed?_

_When did it become acceptable for her to be in Hotch's home anyway?_

_Where did this leave them now?_

_At the time there had been too many questions and too few answers to match._

_She had rubbed a damp towel over her face, cooling herself down and bringing some wakefulness back to her face, however, the woman in the mirror still appeared very exhausted. Sudden noise had drawn Prentiss from her thoughts, her hand fallen to her hip, searching for her Glock, which she was accustomed to wearing. It was left in his bedroom, Emily had to go back. Silently, the brunette agent had tip-toed back towards her boss' bedroom, fixing things that appeared out of place before turning on her heels and getting the fuck out of there._

_Minutes later Prentiss had been sitting behind the wheel of her vehicle, still in Hotch's driveway, unable to do anything but stare out her windshield. What a cliché. It had been a rough night for Hotch, who had been just making some form of recovery in the aftermath of very likely one of the darkest moments in his entire forty-odd years on the plant and Emily had done everything she could think of to calm him. Well, not everything, but that was probably because he was her boss and the possibility of she and Hotch doing anything like what had very (repeat: very) briefly crossed her mind seemed simply unfathomable. _

_Prentiss had shuddered to think of the ramifications of sleeping with the boss. As she had been sitting in the driver's seat—thinking over what would happen if she had done anything less than professional with Hotch—she realized that her main concern hadn't been about losing respect as a professional, being bitched out by Erin Strauss or even the consequences that Hotch would have to face as a unit chief boning a subordinate. No, Emily had worried about what it would mean for their own accord (relationship had felt like such an awkward word to describe what was going on between them) and their budding friendship._

_Yes, sex would have just complicated everything and at the time that was the last thing that Hotch or Prentiss had needed. It was this statement that Emily had repeated back to herself the entire drive from Hotch's place to her own, the words she trained herself to say whenever she started to doubt herself. Emily had supposed that once she was familiar enough with the words to recite them perfectly from memory she would have successfully convinced herself that they were true.  
_

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**Author's Comment:**_ I realize that it's been quite a while since I've last updated so I'm expecting this chapter to go by fairly unnoticed but the story is coming to close. The next chapter is my last one and I'm debating whether or not the story should have a sequel._


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